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OLDEN TIMES; 



OR, 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION, 



A COMEDY, 



IN FIVE ACTS. 



BY 

« ONE OF THEMSELVES.' 



Who lies i' the Second Chamber'' 

DONALD BAIN." Shakespeare. 



EDINBURGH: 

JOHN MENZIES, 61, PRINCE'S STREET. 

LONDON : SMITH, ELDER, & CO. CORNHILL. 

DUBLIN : W. CURRY, JUN. & CO. 

1841.' 



<^a 






is 



EDINBURGH : 

Printed by Andrew Shortrede, Thistle Lane. 



N O T E. 



I have more than once offered myself to public notice before now, 
but never with such misgivings as upon the present occasion ; but 
from circumstances which it is unnecessary to mention, I have felt 
committed. 

The following Comedy will be found entirely local, and a picture 
of manners which are fast disappearing, if they have not already 
disappeared. Whether they were worth preserving or not, I do not 
presume to judge, but on entering on this undertaking I thought 
they were ; and that to many of the older members of the Court in 
particular, these scenes might prove something like a recalling of times 
and characters they have known. 

That the characters I have presented all lived and moved, will be 
seen immediately; and I believe they felt and acted as nearly as 
possible as I have represented. I have endeavoured to be natural 
perhaps too far. It is certain I might have carried eccentricity farther 
without exaggeration ; for a degree of humour and hilarity prevailed 
at that time, far exceeding any thing that can now be seen in the 
same ranks of life. 

The language in which many of these scenes are given, is also 
disappearing; but to have drawn them in any other, would have been 
an anachronism, as perfect as that of Garrick playing Macbeth in a 
regimental coat and wig. — I may say more, it will never be otherwise. 
It renders the play provincial, because the language is not only 
untranslateable, but its true meaning, in all its shades, is incommuni- 
cable to any but such as thoroughly understand it. I am content that 
this should be so : I have indeed contemplated amusing only a few, 
who have well merited it, by their friendship now, and for many long 
and well remembered years, and I regret that they are every day 
becoming fewer. To them, I need not say, that this thing contains 
the dialects of three districts of Scotland, viz. Aberdeen, Fife, and the 
Lothians, though neither in extremes. But to those who may incline 
to frown upon these, as now obsolete and justly so, I would say, that 
I incline to differ ; that these, though generally termed Scotch, are 



4 NOTE. 

really dialects of the English, and nearer to the original, in many 
instances, than the present English is. Many passages of old English 
Authors are in consequence quite intelligible to Scotsmen, that have 
proved unintelligible to Englishmen — Johnson among the rest. I do 
not insist for preserving the Scotch, and in all probability I shall never 
myself write in it again ; I would only have it understood what is done 
in despising it. 

For the general moral of the play, it was forced upon me by the 
story. I have made the most of it I could, and I trust that what I 
have done may be endured. It must be remembered that society 
was then in a state of transition, in many things ; and that even within 
the last thirty years a great change has taken place. 

The incidental touches were more in my command; and though I 
have laughed a little, it is only a little — nee sine modo — "there is 
method in 't." It will be seen that I had spread my canvass for many 
more characters than it has been in my power to bring out. The 
contemplation of them greatly assisted in carrying me on, yet when I 
came to them, I found that I could not use them. Perituri igitur, 
vale quia carent ! To open the way for them so far, I might have 
compressed others, but leaving them all imperfect. I have therefore 
entirely denied myself. Whether my judgment in this has been good 
or bad, is not likely to become a question of great moment, and so I 
need not suggest it. I shall only say, that contrary to the general 
opinion, I think Scotland has materials for Comedy, even without 
altering them ; and that I should have been glad to lead the way in 
this species of enterprise. 

And while I would amuse the living, I trust I have not injured the 
dead. It has not been my wish. On the contrary, I have ever had 
them before me; and I venture to hope, that could the parties now 
«' revisit the glimpses of the moon," of whom I have endeavoured to 
make " the spirits walk," they would not be angry, but join in the 
hilarity of which they were the origin ; and perhaps even have some 
pride, in seeing that their characters had been considered worth pre- 
serving. 

There is yet another word ; et ad Dominos meos judices presertim, 
dico dedicoque, obtestans. My profession is the strictest of the strict : 
How comes a master in accounts in Scotland, to do what a master 
in chancery in England never does — to shew his talents out of his 
profession ? Because " they manage these things differently in Eng- 
land;" and in this particular, at least, I think their example might be 
followed with advantage. 



Enter Prologos. 



An Ancient, reverend and profound, 
** With leaden eyes that love the ground ;" 
Anon " commercing with the skies," 
And sometimes dealing even in sighs. 



Forced on the stage the Roman knight of old, 

With bursting heart his degradation told, 

And crowds respected, but forgot to quell 

The tyranny that made his bosom swell. 

And there are other tyrannies than this — 

Regum Impera tor — angusta res ! 

" Patriam " habeo, sed non " dulcia arva" 

Et si nee opus, unde tunc acerva ? 

This is the age of over-crowds and change, 

And there the Sensitive is always strange. — 

Can he to each successive idol bow, 

And thrive by scrambling, he regards not how ? 

Face now a private patron, now a crowd ? 

Squeeze and be squeezed, of degradation proud ? 

No ! " He would highly, and yet holily," 

And other men would hold themselves as high ; 

So, less fastidious mortals take his place, 

And pass him by, contented with success. 

I, for our author, (as all prologues say,) 
Record this plea — admit the same who may; 
And from misfortune's few and cold allies, 
Seek that which a degraded stage denies. 
Or are they warm, although afraid to seem ? 
And kindly starving him through pure esteem? 
I gladly yield me : — Then each generous ally, 
" Vale et plaudite f" et dummodo vale f 
Sic, " In respect whereof," and " Under protestation 
And death to critics, and the long vacation ! 
Sed mihi laus, et aliquid nummorum, 
Et Favor — " In presentia Dominorum !" 
Apud Athenas, anno quadragesi- 
Mense Decembris, — prospects cold and hazy ; 
Nemine Teste, nam nee uxor pre-est, 

u Locus sigilli" 
Sed sigillum de-esf. 

Boris Jnsignc. B. 



PERSONS. 



Sir Robert Birkie, of Birkieshillock, commonly called Lord Birliie, a 

Senator of the College of Justice. 
Hon. Henry Hairbrain, Advocate, his friend. 
Sir Thomas Wildgoose, of Wildyoose Lodge, Bart. 
Mr William Waggery, Advocate. 
Mr Peter Pumpkin, Advocate. 
Mr James Curs all, Writer. 
Mr James Trockie, Citizen and Picture dealer. 
Philip Dudeen, jftww Ireland, Pig-feeder, but promoted, from the necessities 

of the Administration, to attend upon Christians. 
Mr William Winter, Citizen and Inn-keeper, commonly called Will 

Winter. 

Shadoivs nearly. 

James Fleecer, Writer. 

David Sleeker, commonly called Davy Duply, Writer. 

Mr Andrew Belfry, Advocate. 

Sir James Gimcrack, Baronet. 

Right Hon. Earl of Puggie. 

Right Hon. Earl of Whims. 

Shadows merely. 
Mr Pottle, Mr Daidlie, and Mr Peter Grievous, Writers. 

Ladies. 
Lady of Sir Robert Birkie. 

Catherine, her Daughter, common 1 ;/ called Kate Birkie. 
Lady Diana Wildgoose, commonly called Lady W. 

Attendants upon Her Majesty, Sfc. &fc. 

SCENE. — Edinburgh, and chiefly in, 1st, Argyle Square, at the period 
almost the only square. 2nd, Parliament Close. 3d, High Street. 
4th, Lord Birkieshillock' 's House. 5th, Winter's Tavern. 

Time occupied. — From about nine A.M. till after Dinner. 

Period. — About " Sixty Years Since.'''' 



KEY. 



It having been represented that a Key to the characters in the Coined) 
would much enhance its interest, the following is tendered : — 



Lord Birkieshillock — Lord B — xf — d, commonly called B — xie., hence 
Birkie. His talents and eccentricities are well known. 

Hon. Henry Hairbrain — Hon. Henry Er — kine. 

Sir Thomas Wildgoose — Sir Thomas W — ll — ce. 

Mr Wm. Waggery — ) " Compositions," or if one is a portrait adhw; 

Mr Peter Pumpkin — ) viret, et diu vireat ! 

James Cursall, writer — Late James M — sh — ll. He was in the habit 
of swearing excessively, (the vice of the day,) but in his general and pro- 
fessional character very estimable, though eccentric. 

James Trockie — Late A. And — n. He made a little money in the 
way indicated, but many tricks ascribed to him were either tricks of Hair- 
brain and his associates, in which he was merely an instrument, and 
always ending in a dinner and a laugh at the expense of the connoissieur ; 
or " tribulations " inflicted without any good ground, from the same spirit 
of waggery. 

Wm. Winter, innkeeper — Late W. S — mmers. 

Philip Dudeen, or Philip of the Short Pipe — Imaginary, or merely 
seen for a moment at the door of a Dublin solicitor. 

James Fleecer — James S r. He was very apt to play tricks, and 

justify himself as in the text. 

David Sleeker, or Davy Duply — An excellent man, but so very cour- 
teous in his manner, especially to Counsel, that from habit he would style 
a beggar receiving his charity " My dear !" and bow to him at parting — 
perhaps very profoundly. Yet, as an agent, he considered it his duty to 
stick to all advantages, in pursuit of his favourite " substantial justice." 

Mr And. Belfry — Mr And. B — lf — r. 

Sir James Gimcrack — Sir James C — lq, — n. 

Earl of Puggie and Baron of Fiddle-faddle — Earl of B — n. 

Earl of Whims — A quondam Earl of W — m — ss. 

Mr Pottle — Mr K — tt — le. 

Mr Daidlie — Mr L — d — law. 

Mr Peter Grievous — Mr P . Well known as " the afflicted man's 

best companion." 

LADIES. 

Lady Birkie — Mrs of B — xf — d, and really partner of the Judge. 

Catherine, their daughter. An impersonation of a gay and innocent 
Scotch lass of the period. It is believed she still lives. She was not 
married to Hairbrain. 

Lady Wildgoose — Lady W — ce. — The very witty sister of a late 
witty D — ss, unfortunate in her marriage, but not all at once ; and in her 
natural character, as here represented. 

All are now under the turf, with the exceptions above mentioned. 

Nearly all the facts assumed throughout, actually happened, though not 
all perhaps to the parties represented ; and the incessant representations 
allowed against judgments, and other points of loose practice, with the 
fretting, &c. of those they happened to torment for the time, are com- 
pletely characteristic of the Court, — forty years ago. 



OLDEN TIMES; 



OR, 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 



ACT I. 

Scene I. — Argyle Square. 

Phil Dudeen, sitting smoking on a stone by the railing. Hon. 
Henry Hairbrain and Lady Wildgoose meeting. 

Hairb. Lady Double- u, how are you ? 

Lady W. Daft Harry ! how are ye ? 

Phil. (Starting up.) Your Rivverence ! 

Hairb. You rascal ! — Why here's Phil Dudeen, our friend 
* Birkie's swineherd your ladyship has heard me speak of, and as 
you see, unique in his way, as I told you. What has brought 
you here ? 

Phil. (Smoking.) I 'm an express. 

Hairb. An Irish one with a vengeance ! to be sitting smoking 
on your way. 

Phil. I kem in with a pracess they left, and I 've been here 
this half hour, but I can 't get into the place. 

Hairb. Don 't you know they have moved. 

Phil. Moved is it ? — Be the powers that 's the reas'n they 



8 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

didn't open the door ! — Sure I remimber they told me this after 
all. It's somewhere acrass the bog they gone ! 

Hairb. To be sure it is. 

Phil, What a philaleu I shall have ! I 'd better break my leg 
on purpose, an' then it '11 be an accident ! Couldn't your honour 
allow me to say you detained me, axing for the health of the 
family ? 

Hairb, No. Tell the truth. You 're sure never to be believed 
— but then you can never be found in a lie. 

Phil, But you see, sur, they punish first in this family, and 
inquire afterwards; so the great point is to get over the matter 
in the meantime. But, however, when will your honour be out ? 
The pig we called after your honour is become such a boar ! 

Lady W. Harry ! 

Hairb. Name a pig after me ! Who had the impudence ? 

Phil, Impudence is it ? Who but the ladies — bless their 
sweet eyes ! and they say he 's so like ! 

Hairb. Like I 

Phil. Yes — takes after you in every thing ! Wou'd'nt go in 
the dirt for the biggest bellyful you could give him ; and such a 
darlint blackguard, your ladyship, in other respects ! 

Hairb. Go along, you vagabond ! 

Phil. Your honour is so pleasant ! Shall I say you '11 see us 
soon ? 

Hairb. I will, I will. 

Phil. Many thanks ! success ! whoo ! It '11 make the boys and 
the donkey so happy ! [Exit Phil. 

Hairb. Well, my lady ! What d'ye think of things in general ? 

Lady W. Oh Harry, Harry ! How you like to deal in the 
unanswerable and inconsequential ! 

Hairb. Well ! What has brought you out so early this morn- 
ing ? and does your hubby know you're out ? 

Lady W. If he 's in the house and awake. But he comes in 
so late, I see nothing of him ; and he awakes so late, he sees 
nothing of me. We are like two buckets in a well. 

Hairb. That is not well. It must keep a quiet house, however. 

Lady W, It does. If ever we meet of late, it is by accident, 
when neither of us happens to be engaged to dinner ; and then 
we meet so like strangers, we must be civil for the short time. 



THE RISING OF THE SESS/ON. 9 

Hairb. Well ! bad as this is, it is perhaps better than our 
friend Birkie and his lady — who are always meeting — and — I 
was going to say — wishing they were parting. 

Lady W. I feel for poor Birkie ! 

Hairb. Yet it hasn't cured him — any more than the opposite 
course upon your part has cured Sir Tommie. 

Lady W. There must be a fault somewhere. 

Hairb. I have always thought your ladyship faultless. 

Lady W- Most people think every body's wife faultless but 
their own. 

Hairb. I wish we had met in time. 

Lady W. It wouldn't be well if Miss Kitty heard you. 

Hairb. I think our life would have been a perpetual comedy. 

Lady W. Tragedy ! Tragedy ! 

Hairb. You astonish me. Why ! 

Lady W. Jealousy. 

Hairb. Of what ? 

Lady W. Of one another's jokes; for joking is no joke with 
you. 

Hairb. You mean with Double — u. 

Lady W. That's so like what would have happened had we 
been married, Harry. 

Hairb. Well — fancy us married for a trial, my lady. 

Lady W. I am so satisfied it is a trial, that if I were rid of 
what I have of it, I don't think I should fancy it again. But I 
must away. I am going to market.* 

Hairb. Ay. — You will still to market. 

Lady W. I mean the meat-market. 

Hairb. Exactly the place for finding ribs. 

Lady W. Yes — but by good luck they are dead. 

Hairb. Who would have thought you were so fond of dead 
bargains ? 

Lady W. Harry, Harry ! Jokes don't become married people. 

Hairb. No ! — And some people find it no joke to become 
married. 

Lady W. Or unmarried. — But, a propos ! are we to have the 
pleasant party you promised on the rising of the Session ? 

* Ladies did this in Scotland at this time— gentlemen in Ireland. 



10 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

Hairb. I fear not. 

Lady W. Miserable ! Why not ? 

Hairb. We wanted Birkie to preside; I could not think it 
any thing without him, and his wife won't let him out. 

Lady W. What can that woman mean ? How happy I should 
be, if my good fellow would but think of going out occasionally 
among gentlemen, and return at a decent hour to tell me of the 
amusement he has had ! 

Hairb. To tell the truth, I believe she thinks he hums her 
upon such occasions. 

Lady W. I must have my party. 

Hairb. It would be nothing without Birkie. 

Lady W. Then Birkie we must have ! — When can I see you 
again ? 

Hairb. Immediately after Court, and that to-day will rise 
early. 

Lady W. Well ! by that time I shall have considered of some 
means to carry our purpose — and of course you'll second me ? 

Hairb. In any thing — even to punishing a bad husband. 

{Going and looking back.) 

Lady W. You may doubt how that would be received. But 
I '11 spare both you and him in the meantime, tho' neither must 
presume too far. 

Hairb. (Returning.) I say — but don't start — Hubby is looking 
at us. 

Lady W. In what direction is he ? 

Hairb. To the left — Suppose we give him a twinge ? 

Lady W. Which I shall best do by avoiding him. Good bye ! 
[Exit Lady W. to the right, and Hairbrajn in a different 
direction.'] 

Enter Sir Thomas Wildgoose, as from a late party. 

Sir Tho. I'll be hanged if that's not my wife — and shaking 
hands again and again with that vagabond Hairbrain ! So ho, 
puss ! So ho, badger ! What can she be doing out at this late 
hour ? I mean early by the by. She hasn't been dining with 
Drunky too ? Eh ? — Women of quality have no business to be in 
the streets, when their husbands are out on business, if they should 
stay till to-morrow — and I believe it is in fact to-morrow now — 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 1 1 

Never mind ! It 's clear that I have committed a most original 
sin — no, it 's only a copy — I have married a wife, and find it's 
a thing I 've not been used to, — and she, on her part, begins to 
find out that it don't signify. Now, I have a confused idea that 
this is not proper. Above all things I hate a joker of jokes — a 
wit ! Hairbrain, you are a scoundrel, and I '11 treat you accor- 
dingly ! No man shall respect my wife but myself — and that 
only so far as I find convenient — If any man's of a different 
opinion, let him get a wife of his own. {Exit. 



Scene II. — Front of Parliament House. 
Hairbrain — now robed — met by James Fleecer. 

Hairb. Well, Mr Fleecer, whom are we skinning to-day ? 

Fleecer. What i' the warld 's become o' ye, Mr Hairbrain ? 
Ye ken this is our last day — an' of a' the days I have ever seen, 
I have never seen the like o' this. 

Hairb. W 7 hat's the matter ? 

Fleecer. They 're houghin', hinc et inde, hinc et inde ;* — Sign ; 
for the love o' gudeness sign that bit of a representation to keep 
the case open, or we 're dune for, an 'twere the only case on 
earth. 

Hairb. {Reading and taking the pen.) How many representa- 
tions have I signed in this case ? 

Fleecer. That's mair than I can tell ; but ye canna be muckle 
the waur o' signing ane mair. ( Gets back the paper, and hands 
another.) That's anither bit thingie. 

Hairb. A reclaiming note ? 

Fleecer. Just to keep the case open. 

Hairb. Who 's the opposite agent ? 

Fleecer. The afflicted man's best companion. 

Hairb. I daresay the party needs it ; for I think you are giving 
him all the turns. 

Fleecer. We hae need, for that fallow attends till a case as if 
he had naething else to dee (do.) ( Gets the paper.) Thank ye. 

[Exit. 

* Driving the legs from under one another in every direction. 



12 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

Enter Curs all. 

Cursall. 'Ods curse, Mr Hairbrain ! are ye here, an me seekin' 
ye through a' the hoose ? I aye saw ye early upo' the beurds 
till now, dammit ! an' to be absent this day, of a' the days i' the 
year ! 

Hairb. I have been intercepted here, and here it seems I must 
remain. What 's the matter ? 

Cursall. Gad, ye need na ask what's the matter? Is that 
paper syndit, curse ye ! [Presenting a paper for signature.) 

Hairb. Couldn't well be, seeing I never saw it before. 

Cursall. An' wha sent hame the scroll o' a paper of eighty 
pages, at twal o'clock last night, but that infernal rascal Harry 
Hairbrain ! Ye should hae been here this mornin', if only to 
sign an' support that paper ! — 

Hairb. [Signing and returning.) All in good time. 

Cursall. An' them cravin' warrant for extract at this precious 
minute ! If ye ca' that gude time, I ha'e nae skeel. But ye 
ken ye can write, ye villain, an' ye presume upon it. ( To his 
clerk.) Hae, laddie, carry that into Court, an' clap it into the 
hands o' the clerk o' process, wi' a deevil till him ! I '11 be there 
in five minutes. (Exit clerk.) Gad d'ye ken the vera clerk o' 
process is takin' side against us at last. 

Hairb. No wonder, I daresay. 

Cursall. Wonder! — I wonder to hear ye! He's aye weel 
paid, come o' the Augent that likes. — Wheugh ! what a fright 
I 've been in ! But it's a' right yet. — Noo, here's anither son 
of a . 

Hairb. Hush ! what 's the matter with this fellow ? 

Cursall. Only tryin' to get a suspension refused, without a 
written intimation. 

Hairb. What next ? 

Cursall. They 're wiser than I that can tell ; only as my Lord 
Justice says, there's some folks wadna be the waur o' bein' 
hanged ! 

Hairb. I am decidedly of that opinion. If I recollect rightly, 
there is not much to rest upon in this case on the merits. 

Cursall. The mair need that it should hae justice dune it in 
the forms. Noo, in points of form, we 're a' gaun to 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 13 

Hairb. I understand ; and for form's sake, that is going pretty 
far. 

CursalL A deevilish deal ower far. The law should be the 
law, aye till its made no' the law. That 's what I say, an' will 
say, to the back end o' my existence. But am I supportit? 
They '11 see me hanged first ! Were the profession to stand up 
as it should, an' insist for chapter an' verse, gad, the Judges dare 
as soon be 

Hairb. I understand. 

CursalL As refuse it. They would be compelled to stick to 
the text. 

Hairb. I see. 

CursalL But a wheen whipper-snapper laddies are startin' 
into practice, wi' their new fall-lalls, and rigmarolls; an' as it 
saves them the trouble o' kennin' ony thing about their profes- 
sion themsels, to tak the law as they get it, an' the puir client 
pays for a', I believe if the Judges were to read them a chapter 
o' the Apocrypha, they would tak' it for gospel. But mind ye 
me — stick to their gills if ye be wise ! Establish a character for 
no carin' a damn for man nor mither's son, but seekin' an' insistin' 
for the law, an' ye 're a made man ! At ony rate, ye 're to defend 
this case upon the point o' form, an' a vera bonny point o' law it 
is — we didna get written intimation. 

Hairb. Did they intimate at all ? 

CursalL Did a dog bark ? — It 's no a point to be aliunde sup- 
peditum. 

Hairb. I am quite aware ; but what is their plea ? 

CursalL Nae matter what it is ; some fulish unreportit judg- 
ment, or some allegation of meetin' me i' the streets ! An' vera 
likely they did meet me, an' vera likely I hae a nose on my face, 
but am I bund to confess it ? Let them prove it, or pit their 
thoom on 't ! I dinna come into Court to confess things. 

Hairb. I see. 

CursalL So ye should, and so should every body. — Oh, man ! 
what a bonnie bit thingie the law o' Scotland is, if we could only 
get it ! Clear, concise, rational in a' its forms. — There 's no' a 
law like it ; but do we get it ? There 's a thief they ca' Substan- 
tial Justice, that's no' only stealin' the law out o' the land, but the 
brains out of our heads ! 



14 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

Hairb. We have aye the appeal, ye ken. 

Cursall. The hoodie-craws ! It's the vera misery. 

Hairb. Must have the appeal. 

Cursall. Keep it at hame then ; mak it frae the Court no sae 
heedin', to the Court wi' a bit fillip on the nose. If ye dinna, I 
can tell what'll happen — It'll soon be Bob Mac-Squint's lottery 
at baith ends. Gad ! if a Tinkler but spoils an auld kettle, we ha'e 
our remedy; but the law o' the land — mercy and megsties ! 

Hairb. And how is all this to be remedied ? 

Cursall. Would ye like to ken? Ae principle — ae single 
short principle — would cure it a' : — By observin' that single 
principle, we might preserve the law, administer it satisfactorily, 
and render appeal unnecessary. But will we do it ? Catch us ! 

Hairb. The principle, the principle — 

Cursall. Ye just want to hear it, to laugh at it ! 

Hairb. Never. 

Cursall. Stickin' to the forms ! 

Hairb. The forms ? 

Cursall. Ay, the forms ! form is law — an' law is form. An' 
the law as it is laid down — the pure letter — is our patrimony — 
what we pay for ; what we buy an' sell on ; the hie road : an' if 
ye abandon the forms o' justice in a single inch, ye 're gaun aff 
the hie road whan naebody expects it, an' ye may crush thoosands! 
It's aneuch to justify a rebellion ! 

Hairb. I am exceedingly disposed to be of your opinion. 

Cursall. {Shaking hands.) Then you're a man of sense, if I 
should never see ye again ! 

Hairb. There 's one case I have not noticed this Session 

Cursall. The Laird o' Hempey against the Magistrates o' 
Muckle-Clatter ; — I 'm fear'd to bring it on ! — But they '11 
find I 'm no dead — I 'm watchin' them upo' the forms; and if 
that happens that I look for, there '11 be a bonny blaw up ! — I 
wadna be surprised to hear o' the agent an' parties fechtin' at 
the Cross ! D' ye ken I 'm thinkin' to introduce you to the 
Laird's business; — an' he's a real legal philosopher the Laird — 
put a matter of a thoosand pounds at my disposal at yance, ae 
time, no to settle the points, (tho' we ha'e settled mony,) but to 
see hoo aften the judges cud gang wrang ! 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 15 

Hairb. And did they humour ye ? 

Cursall. I suspect they fund us out ; at ony rate I ha'e seen 
them do waur when there was naebody wantin' them. But we 
maun speak about this hereafter. In the meantime ye 're to 
defend the case in hand as I say. 

Enter Davy Sleeker. 

Sleeker. (Bowing deeply.) Hoo are ye, Mr Hairbrain P Hoo 
are ye, Mr Cursall ? 

Cursall. Hoo am I ? Hoo shoud I be but weel ? Wha ever 
heard of a writer being sick i' the time o' Session ? Gude day, 
Laddies ! [Exit. 

Hairb. That's an answer hardly admitting of a reply, even 
from Davy Duply. 

Sleeker. He 's a fine man Mr Cursall. 

Hairb. Taste is every thing. What are your commands ? 

Sleeker. Dear man ! commands ! — I ha'e been wanderin' 
through a' the House seekin ye, to mak my humble petitions. 
That heavy case about the march-burn is comin' on, an' I doubt 
I ha'e been manceuvrin' o'er far, for 1 have na puttin pen to 
paper, an' they 're makin' vera important demands. 

Hairb. What case is it ? 

Sleeker. Dear, man ! d' ye no' mind ? The Burn o' Collev- 
shangie. — 

Hairb. I remember. 

Sleeker. They 're cravin' a commission to tak' parole testimony 
an' hae the grund surveyed. 

Hairb. Woudn't a survey be the shortest way of settling the 
case ? 

Sleeker. But, dear, man ! that 's no what 's wanted. 

Hairb. I beg pardon. 

Sleeker. The vera reverse — the vera reverse ! — We wish to 
prevent it ever beirt a case, an' this woud be lettin' them into 
the braid side o' it ! — They maun be beaten upon the prelimi- 
naries. 

Hairb. Let us hear. 

Sleeker. The real fact is this, — but of course it's between 
oursel's — the burn has shifted its course, an' left a pendicle upon 
our side, that if it should be proved to belang to them, woud gi'e 



lti OLDEN TIMES, OR 

them the hail! command o' the water. This, I believe, could be 
proved, baith by a plan already extant, an' by old people. 

Hairb. There is a case in point. 

Sleeker. Clawtillim against Grippy ? But, dear, man ! it 
was never decidit ! It was carried to the court of last resource to 
be sure, an' ane or twa o' the quasi men there had gien their 
opinions ; when after ten years' quiet running upon the part of 
the river, an' fierce litigation by the parties, the river returned 
till its auld channel, just in time to leave the case whare it was ! 

Hairb. But the opinions of the Upper House were in our 
favour so far as they went. 

Sleeker. But it was muckle otherwise at hame — an* what 's 
mair, they were right. Lo, if a river was to tak it intill it's head 
to cut aff half my estate, wad it no be a bonny matter if I coudna 
follow it? 

Hairb. I see. 

Sleeker. An' rectum ad toium, rectum ad jugerum, et etiam ad 
gramen ; at least that was the doctrine o' my Lord Balcrabbit, 
an' I think he spak' the sense o' the court. Therefore they man 
be keepit out o' the case a' thegither — or I doubt it's a gone 
corbie ; — an' in that case hae mercy on us ! It wad put my friend 
intil a strait jacket. The fallow that 's opposed to us, (the Laird 
o' Newcome, as my friend Auldbiggins ca's him,) has made his 
money by printin' ballants an' story beukks, or something o' that 
kind ; an' noo wishes to hae a paper-mill on his ain estate wi' 
leave ! — If he succeeds in this, it stands to reason we should soon 
hae a' the auld breeks in the country thrown doon at our door; or 
sic a continual hobbleshow wi' wark people, as would be aneuch 
to anger the vera craws upon a decent auld fashioned property. 

Hairb. I see. 

Sleeker. But their title, which in this respect has been bitched,* 
if what they say be true, simply says, " the burn o' Colley- 
shangie." Nco, wha ever heard of parole evidence in aid of the 
words of a deed ? 

Hairb. But the plan — Where is it ? 

Sleeker. Ay, that's a great point : — We have it. 

Hairb. Can't they trace it ? 

Sleeker. The agent that borrowed it is dead! 

* Botched. 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. ]7 

Hairb. Well, a caption would be of little use in that case. 

Sleeker. Of nane whatever. Therefore, we ken naething 
about it. Vera likely it never had ony actual existence; a mere 
dream of some old person, or a copy of no authority? by some 
inexperienced surveyor. 

Hairb. I see. 

Sleeker. In all events, they maun produce it that found upon 
it, or they havena the shadow of a case. 

Hairb. Certainly not. 

Sleeker. An' we wish to enclose our land. 

Hairb. Of course. 

Sleeker. Our loss upon that head, indeed, is enormous. 

Hairb. It must be. 

Sleeker. I wish it were competent to raise a summons upon 
the claim, an' inhibit upo' the dependence ? It would frighten 
the fallow ? 

Hairb. Yes; but he might afterwards frighten us, 

Sleeker. There 's the honorary — (giving money furtively) — an' 
I 'm sure if we can carry the case upon the preliminaries, an' get 
our client out o' Court, or at least keep the case in shape, an' 
sicken them before gettin' in till it 

Hairb. We '11 see. 

Sleeker. We only want substantial justice. 

Hairb. Of course — of course. Any thing farther you would 
like to suggest as to the management of the case ? 

Sleeker. Naething whatever, my dear! but just to win it — 
and for this I gie ye a' latitude; — only, if I might mak' a 
suggestion, I wou'd stick to the forms first : — some clever bits 
o' things done in that way — I think our neist best resource will 
be in the discretion d the Judges : honest men ! — they can ha'e 
nae wish nor interest but to gie us justice if they can — an' sae ye 
may tell them. If we man come to the law of the case, we man ; 
but no' as lang as we can help it. Aboon a', yield naething to 
courtesy. 

Hairb. Ridiculous, ridiculous : — playing the gentleman at our 
client's expense ! — 

Sleeker. My very sentiments ! — unless we ha'e a fawvour to 
ask ■ 

B 



18 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

Cur sail. {Re-appearing*) Mr Harry! d'ye think ye 're like 
Lord Balbubl y's bird — an' can be in twa places at ance ? 

Hairb. I 'm just a-coming. 

Cur sail. Christmas is comin' ! Gang in, gang in, an' let me 
see ye rattle up the beggars ! If they speak t' ye of ony thing but 
chapter an' verse, kick them ! — 

Sleeker. An' my dear ! In my case, dinna let them within sight 
of chapter and verse, for the neist seven years — if ye can help it. 

Hairb. I understand. [Exit — and they follow in great haste. 



Scene III. — As before. 

Enter Waggery as just released — and seeing Pumpkin walking 

off— 

Wag. I say, Pumpkin, are you off ? — 

Pumpk. Yes — rid of the beasts for this Session. 

Wag. I 'm waiting for Hairbrain. 

Pumpk. He's under the fangs of Davy Duply, and a most 
anxious losing face Davy had. 

Wag. The court won't be bored to-day. — Where do you 
dine? 

Pumpk. I have been considering. 

Wag. Come to the Cape — Sir Jamie is to be there; — the 
Yirl ; — Hairbrain sovereign, if they can't get Birkie, and Pompey 
the great in some efficient office. — They 're to have ladies too. 

Pumpk. I heard only of Lady W. 

Wag. And who ever saw a queen without attendants ? We 
shall have some nonsense, rely on it. — There goes Jemmy Pottle. 
How are you, Mr Pottle. 

Pottle. (A little squab, in a cocked hat, tie wig, Sfc. and erect as 
a pin.) How are ye — gentle-men ? 

Wag. Labours of the Session over ? 

Pottle. They are. But business and I are parting by mutual 
consent — Ey, ey ! — 

" Old ships must expect in time 
To wear out of commission." 
i " And, like immortal Cesar, die with decency ! " 

Pumpk. Meaning the ships ? 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 19 

Pottle. Certainly; — naves atquepoemata, gentlemen — must end 
at last. 

Wag. Femineum querunt, you mean ; which being interpreted, 
means get married. 

Pottle. Well, well ! perhaps they are synonymous. [Exit. 

Pumpk. And this, like the Laird of Lamont, with his " Hangit 
laird, how are ye?" — he'll call a long and interesting conver- 
sation. 

Wag. And supported on his part with great propriety. 

Pumpk. Yet the little beast has made money. 

Wag. The best test of genius, my dear Peter, after all. Here 
comes Julius Cesar, alias Jamie Daidlie. 

Enter Jemmy — a light figure in Quaker canonicals and a 
brown bob. 

Pumpk. Mr Daidlie, good morning ! 

Daidlie. Morning, gentlemen ! Session over at last. 

Wag. A tough job for you writers 

Daidlie. I '11 tell you a tougher — to get in the accounts. 

Wag. Why, if you mean the money 

Daidlie. Of course I mean the money — accounts without 
money — Demosthenes haranguing to cabbages ! heh, heh ! 
wasn't that the story ? 

Pumpk. You are quite a Classic, sir. 

Daidlie. Have been, Mr Pumpkin — have been ; all in the 
past time now. [Exit Daidlie* 

Pumpk. If any one had said that but yourself — By the by, 
Why was that little shuffling fellow called Julius Cesar? 

Wag. I '11 tell you. You see he & a little fellow ; but all 
these little fellows would have wives as big as churches if they 
could get them. — Jemmy has had his allowance, yet wishes to 
be thought master. One night he was very glorious with some 
friends, but they hadn't quite forgot themselves tho' he had ; so 
one of them muttered something about parting, coupled with the 
name of Mrs Daidlie. Mrs Daidlie ! said Jemmy, with a suit- 
able assumption of dignity, I 'd have you know that I am Julius 
Cesar in this family ! Julius Cesar ! said a voice behind him, I 
think it time you were in bed ! It was the wife ! 
And Julius Cesar sunk in Jerry Sneak ! 



20 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

Pumpk. Ha, ha ! Here comes another original. 

Wag. The afflicted man's best companion — and to-day with 
a double portion of affliction in his face. 

Pumpk. He has lost a case, or at least had judgment put 
off sine die — when he was cock sure of it, and of payment of 
his account of course. 

Wag. Who did him ? 

Pumpk. Jemmy Fleecer. 

Wag. Par nobile. 

Enter Peter Grievous, in pepper and salts all over — and a 
most lugubrious face. 

Pumpk. Mr Grievous, I was sorry to be obliged to appear 
against you to-day. I wish I had known the merits of the case. 

Grievous. It never had any, Mr Peter. But you must do 
after your kind, and I after mine. Your client will pay for all, 
and I pity him. Oh hey ! life is a vapour, Mr Peter. All the 
same an hundred years hence. 

Pumpk. As you say — who lives to see it. 

Grievous. Just so, Mr Peter — just so. \_Exit. 

Pumpk. And that man also has made money, Wag. 

Wag. And maintained a family. — 

Pumpk. And I can't scrape for one. — 

Wag. Here comes Hairbrain at last. — I say, Hal. 

Hairb. Well, Will. 

Wag. We have been dying here moralizing : — Say are we to 
have Birkie at the Cape, that I may go home contented ? 

Hairb. I don't expect it. 

Wag. Why not t 

Hairb. There are domestic impediments. 

Wag. His wife won't let him ! 

Hairb. I believe that is the fact. 

Wag. Infamous ! — 

Pumpk. I say very proper. What right has a beast that is 
married to be going about loose? — Furthermore, there should 
be no marriages for seven years — for the world is over-peopled. 

Hairb. How sententious our friend is. 

Pumpk. Your friend's an ass ! Nay, all the world's an ass — 
And all the men and women, asses' colts. 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 21 

They have their panniers and their packsaddles, 
And many in their time bear heavy loads — 
And scarcely are rewarded with a thistle. 
This — this is grievous. On the other hand — 
Give them even nothing needful to be borne, 
And they '11 find something heavier in its stead, 
And need I add — much more nonsensical ? 
Wherefore I say again — The world 's an ass. 

Wag. Peter, Peter ! 

Pumpk. Who calls Peter, Peter ? 
W r as it to offer me a bit of dust? 
Of yellow dust, that I may toil for them — 
And be what is esteem'd a gentleman ? 
'Twas but the idle coinage of the brain ! — 
No one calls Peter — Here 's a guinea^ Peter ! — 
But every one would take a guinea from me. [Exit. 

Wag. And so he takes his leave. Is he to dine with us ? 

Hairb. Nobody knows. He may come in, in some mad cha- 
racter to astonish us. Here comes another original — the ingenious 
Jemmie Trockie. 

Wag. Ingenious in what ? 

Hairb. In living, where other people would starve. I want 
him — very particularly— but say nothing of it, or I shall have to 
buy his attendance. 

Wag. He 's a character certainly. He seems in great puff. 

Hairb. I woudn't be surprised if he wants us. 

Enter James Trockie — in greys and a brown scratch. 

Trockie. Oh gentlemen, but I 'm glad I 've fund ye ! 

Hairb. What 's the matter ? Any body going to cudgel you for 
your last trick ? 

Wag. Or more grievous — to wrest the cash from you ? 

Trockie. An' maist diffeecult — seeing I never had any. But, 
by the by, I believe ye 're to ha'e a grand interteenment the day. 

Wag. That's not by the by, Jemmy; that's your errand. 
Now, we are to have it, and you want some favour : say what 
it is. 

Trockie. Ye 're an unco gentleman ! Hooever I do want a 
favour. 



22 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

Wag. Out with it. 

Trockie. Just the auld way — to be a little mercifu' in gien 
your opinion. 

Hairb, I have sworn that if it's Sir James again — I'll not 
assist you. 

Trockie. Then I am maist happy to say, it 's no' Sir James 
this time, it 's the Yirl. 

Wag. Which Earl ? 

Trockie. Oh ! of Puggie, of Puggie. 

Wag. That was a terrible story about the jug, Trockie. 

Trockie. Whatana joog, gentlemen ? 

Wag. Sir James's, of course. 

Trockie. Ye ha'e the advantage o' me. 

Wag. We have ? — Do you forget — can you ever forget — 
sending to Sir James's house, and purchasing from the lady, a 
jug which she considered lumber, but which you knew Sir James 
would have given fifty pounds to match ? And selling him his 
own jug again as a match, at five times the money he had given 
for it at first, and fifty times the price you had paid for it ? 

Trockie. Noo, din-not conneck me wi' the purchase o' that 
article ! I canna alloo it at no rate ! I own I sauld it as a match, 
an' had a suspeecion, fae a particular crack in it, that it was Sir 
James's joog. But it was only a suspeecion. An' as for the 
price, I turned up my beuk, an' satisfied Sir James, when he 
cam' to enquire about it, that I had paid within a triffle o' what 
he paid me; an' which difference I offered to return — tho' I 
wasna obleeged. 

Wag. Jemmy, Jemmy ! 

Trockie. Gentlemen ! Will ye neither believe word nor 
vreete ? (writing.) 

Hairb. Don't be too hard, Waggery. Do you think the poor 
fellow has no feelings ? 

Trockie. You may say that, Mr Hairbrain. But I aye fund 
you a gentleman. 

Wag. And / — / am not a gentleman ! 

Trockie. Forbid that I should say sae ! But I say, pity them 
that comes under your lash in a cause ; it 's little matter whether 
they be right or wrang. 

Wag. Won't do. But come — out with this horrible delin- 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 23 

quency; for horrible it must be, or you would never have 
hesitated so long. 

Trockie. Have ye ever gien me time to uter a word ? 

Hairb. Is it another Vandyke from the Cowgate ? 

Trockie. Noo own a truth, Mr Hairb rain — be a gentleman 
for ance. 

Hairb. What, sir ! 

Trockie. Might there no' be a Vandyke in the Cowgate, at an 
antrin time ? (Occasionally.) 

Hairb. But was that a Vandyke you sold to Sir James ? Or 
had you the slightest suspicion that it was ? 

Trockie. Did I ever say that it was ? 

Hairb. Did you not insinuate that it was ? 

Trockie. Never ! — a micht 'a said that it was like his manner. 

Hairb. And was it ? 

Trockie. It was a vera guid paintin' ; — an' besides — hadna 
the man his een ? 

Wag. And did you not say you purchased it in the Nether- 
lands ? 

Trockie. An' is na the bottom o' the Cowgate sufficiently in 
the nether-lands for ony Christian ? 

Hairb. I have done ! 

Trockie. I 'm sure I 'm a' tremblin, ye 're siccan hands. (Such 
hands.) But I man trust ye ance mair. The fact is, that in the 
coorse o' my travels 

Wag. In the Netherlands ? 

Trockie. Hoot ! little matter where. But in the coorse o' my 
travels — for mony a foot I have travelled, an' at muckle black 
cost — mair than I ever got back again — but that's neither here 
nor there. — 

Wag. Certainly not. 

Trockie. Weel — bein' in Glasgow lately, I chanced to light 
upon — what d' ye think gentlemen ? 

Wag. I have not the minutest atom of an idea. 

Trockie. A portrait — an undootit oreeginal an' authentic por- 
trait, of a great benefactor of the city — the first principal o' the 
university. 

Wag. In what century did he live ? 

Trockie. Ilka body kens that. 



"2\ OLDEN TIMES, OR 

Wag. I don't- What dress does he wear ? 

Troclde. Ay — ye 're comin to the point noo : A vera low- 
collared, or rather no-collared coat; linen vera clean, but coarse 
— quite of the texture of Henry the Fourth's of France ; — indeed 
that of itself is aneuch to authenticat' the pictur' ; — an' a maist 
astonishingly well paintit grizzle wig ! 

Wag. Some retired barber his wife has had painted in order 
to make the fool think she loved him, that he might leave her 
every thing in his will. 

Troclde. The vera thing I was terrified ye wud say ! an' it 
wud do the bizziness ; but could prejudice be mair prepense? 
Ye hinna seen the pictur', an' yet ye pronunce upon it ! Noo, 
it's no' a first-rate performance, I admit, but it's an oreeginal, 
an' that's a great matter ; an' I insist upon its bein' an oreeginal. 

Wag. No doubt; who would think of copying it? 

Trockie. There again ! Oh ! gentlemen, be mercifu'. Be it 
what it likes, it '11 soon be out o' the way in this quarter. It's 
to be presented to Glasgow College. The frame an' the inscrip- 
tion are upon it, an' I thought it wad hae gaen in peace. . But 
my tribulations are never at an end. Ye wudna hinder the yirl 
to exhibit it to your meeting this night 

Hairb. I see the whole thing. We '11 be merciful. 

Trockie. Oh ! if you please, gentlemen. It '11 soon be in 
Glasgow. 

Wag. And any thing does there? 

Trockie. I dinna say that. I have had mony a glass o' gude 
punch in Glasgow! 

Wag. Well, we spare you this time. 

Trockie. I 'm mair than obleeged t' ye. How can I serve ye 
again, gentlemen ? I 'm sure if there 's ony bit cabinet pictur' 
in my collection 

Wag. A most characteristic mode of repaying us for assisting 
you in cheating others, to offer to cheat ourselves ! 

Trockie. Dinna lowse my tongue, Mr Waggery ! let us part 
friens ! Ye ken yer ain picturs are nane o' the best sometimes, 
mair than mine ; an' mine ha'e this advantage, they never shew 
an honest man like a knave, nor a knave like an honest man. 
which is maer than can be said for yours ! 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION'. fc 25 

Hairb. It 's going against you, Wag. — Wait for me at Will 
Winter's, Trockie. I 'It see you in half an hour. 

Trockie. At ony hour o' the day or nicht, if I 'm spared till 
the hour comes. 

Wag. How religious rogues always are ! No wonder you're 
doubtful of being permitted to live, Trockie. 

Trockie. Weel, since ye will hae't, an' will hae't, (will have 
and will have it), of a' trades that I ken, the lawyer can least 
affoord to fling stanes ! — Feigh ! (faugh) what lees ! an' for sic 
wheety considerations ! Od, if I couldna turn mair than a 
'couple o' guineas for a lee, I wad never tell a lee in my life ! 
Na, I 'm bad eneuch, but never compare me to ony o' the pro- 
fessions ! — I gie value that brings value again, no' a useless 
squeeze o' the pulse, or a buller of win' ! But I see the nuisance 
is abated for a while, at least as ane of the professions is con- 
cerned, for the Court's up; sae gude day t' ye, Mr Wiggery ! 

Wag. I '11 stick a label on your Barber, giving place and 
name. 

Trockie. Dee sae, an' I '11 touch ye up wi' a bit action o' 
damages. (Going.) 

Wag. I say. — (Pointing in the direction he was going.) 

Trockie. Your pleasur' ? 

Wag. Do you wish to meet your friend the Earl ? 

Trockie. No' just at this particular minute. (Exit in the 
opposite direction. ) 

Wag. Ha, ha ! — Yet the joke is against us. For months to 
come we shall hardly be able to diddle to the tune of a seven 
shillings' piece, while all other professions will be carrying on 
their rogueries at the usual rate. 

Hairb. It 's melancholy. But come along. {Exeunt. 

[ Shouting and saluting, Sfc. of lawyers. Scene closes. 



Scene IV. — High Street — Opening of Blackfriars Wynd. 
Lady W. disguised as a maid-servant, 

Lady W. (Alone.) I hope this wild fellow will come this way, 
and that I may pass muster. I think I 'm pretty well drest, and 
no mistake. If I succeed in my purpose, I shall be justified. If 



26 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

I do not, I may regret the idea as long as I live; for nothing is 
safe from misconstruction, but truth and propriety, — Heigh-ho ! 
Oh ! here comes the scape-grace, true to his appointment, most 
probably because he ought not ; and grinning, doubtless, at some 
good joke that is to be; some well laboured impromptu. But 
he is happy. He has no cross or indifferent wife — as yet. 
There should clearly be some method of loosing, upon cause 
shewn. 

Hairbrain enters. 

Lady TV. (In a feigned voice.) Oh ! Mr Hairbrain, I 'm so 4 
glad to have met you ! 

Hairb. Are you ? Then, of course, I should be glad to have 
met you ; but who are you ? 

Lady TV. Who am I ? — I see how it is ! 

Hairb. (Aside.) Here's a rod in pickle for some one. For 
me, I thank the writers, I 've been too busy of late. But, on the 
whole, I'd better cut. 

Lady TV. Don't you remember you promised — promised 

Hairb. Promised what ? 

Lady TV. (Sighing.) To mee-t m-e-e-e ! 

Hairb. And I did n't come — Eh ? But is this all ? Is there 
nothing wrong ? 

Lady TV. Did n't I tell you the whole story ? 

Hairb. About what ? 

Lady TV. The ill-treatment of — my husband. 

Hairb. Oh ! is that all ? 

Lady TV. I think it is enough. 

Hairb. No doubt — no doubt; but you see it's not personal. 
Who is the monster? (Shaking her hand.) 

Lady TV. He's a gentleman. 

Hairb. A gentleman ! — Breach of promise, perhaps ? 

Lady TV. A very great breach of promise — to marry a person, 
and then not love them. 

Hairb. And is this your case ? 

Lady TV. It is. 

Hairb. Then I'm sorry I can't assist you; — that is, legally; 
because the fact is, though there is no case so common, nor so 
disagreeable, yet it's not actionable ; not even an offence in law. 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 27 

Lady W. Oh dear ! 

Hairb. Wouldn't stand a cough! — No; if you could get 
them to bring in a statute to make that sort of breach of promise 
actionable, we should soon have half the kingdom convened in a 
court of breaches ! Your remedy — if you will have a remedy, 

— must be extrajudicial. {Making a sign.) 

Lady TV. (In her natural manner.) Harry! Harry! you're 
worse than I took you to be. 

Hairb. Lady W. by all that 's wonderful ! Why, what has 
brought you in that state ? 

Lady TV. You know we have a little frolic on foot 

Hairb. But how is this to forward it ? and what a risk you run ! 

Lady TV. Now, don't frighten me with your sanctity, as much 
as you have with your profligacy; for I have done more than this 

— I have called upon myself, as a smart young officer; that 
somewhat notorious young gentleman, the Hon. Thomas Scamper. 
I sent up my card, and being informed that I had just gone out, 
I said it was of no consequence, as we should meet according 
to appointment, at dinner with Lord Birkieshillock. As I made 
this remark, I could hear Tommie shuffling at the top of his 
speed to get a peep at me from the window, so I walked off, 
flourishing my cane at a great rate. I hope master Tommie 
may have some curiosity to know what 's in the wind. If that is 
the case, he calls at Birkie's, and the mystery that may thence 
arise, may do some good. 

Hairb. Upon my word, my Lady 

Lady TV. If you intend a lecture, it comes too late. Besides 
what I intend for my husband, I think we intend something in 
the way of reforming a lady ; and especially, of emancipating her 
husband for this day. Now, don't you think if I were to call 
upon his Lordship in this dress — crying a little or so — we might 
have a chance of him ? 

Hairb. Upon my word, I believe so — except what of his face 
he might have to leave behind him. 

Lady TV. Well, this is my plan. Do you think I shall not be 
found out ? 

Hairb. Not unless I am a greater goose than I suspected. 

Lady TV. But that's the truth, Harry; and so I fear I 'm in 
danger. But talking of danger — here is danger. But don't 



28 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

start — my husband again! He must have followed me, and 
must be prevented going farther by any means, or I am ruined ! 
I will wait for you near Lord B.'s. — Good bye ! \_Exit. 

Hairb. Good bye. (Alone.) He must have dogged her. He 
shall dog her no farther, at all events. ( To Sir T. W.) Ha ! my 
dear Sir Thomas, I am glad to see you so early abroad. 

Sir Thos. (entering.) The truth is — (looking after Lady W.) 
— I have been very little at home. But you 're a fortunate fel- 
low, Hairbrain ! — I never see you, but you 're in conversation 
with women, and devilish smart ones too. Who may that be 
you have just parted from ? 

Hairb. A very good friend of mine. 

Sir Thos. I dare say; but who is she ? 

Hairb. Not a fair question. 

Sir Thos. Then I must see for myself. (Going.) 

Hairb. Certainly not — certainly not. (Opposing.) 

Sir Thos. Who shall hinder me ? 

Hairb. Decency, Sir Thomas ! Remember it is day-light, and 
you are married. 

Sir Thos. Hairbrain, I want none of your morality. 

Hairb. That 's fortunate, for in the opinion of most people, I 
have little to spare. 

Sir Thos. I have reasons for wishing to see that person. 

Hairb. There can be no reason for any gentleman's intruding 
himself upon a female^ who does not wish to see him, and she 
must be very unprotected if it is permitted. 

Sir Thos. I only wish to pass you, sir. Have you any right 
to prevent it? 

Hairb. You cannot pass in pursuit of a lady whom I am bound 
to protect. 

Sir Thos. And lady too? 

Hairb. I choose to call her so. 

Sir Thos. By what right are you her protector? 

Hairb. She has consulted me on her family affairs. 

Sir Thos. Then they must be in a fine way. 

Hairb. That is perhaps your opinion, and it is equally rude and 
contemptible. 

Sir Thos. Contemptible? 

Hairb. Yes ! If you hold my opinion light, so must I yours. 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 29 

It is enough she has consulted me. It is material to her peace 
that this should not be known in the meantime. I must consider 
the concealment of her identity, therefore, as part of my duty 
to her as a client — as forced upon me by my oath of office; and 
however lightly you may estimate my sense of duty, or my judg- 
ment in the exercise of that sense, you must, in this instance, pass 
over my body, before you intrude upon that person ! 

Sir Thos. Well, sir ! I suppose you have succeeded in your 
object, without the necessity of shewing your prowess: — That 
has proceeded from my simplicity, this time ; there must be 
another reason, if I am defeated a second time. 

Hairb. At any time, at all times, you will find me equally 
determined to do what I think right in myself, or to repress what 
I consider wrong in another. 

Sir Thos. Indeed ! 

Hairb. Most certainly. [Exit Hairbrain. 

Sir Thos. (Alone.) If that woman had been dressed otherwise 
than she is, I should have sworn she was my wife ! If it is my 
wife, so dressed, what a madman I have been ! [Exit. 

Hairb. (Entering and looking after Sir Thos.) 

He's touched — and so our office now though nice, 

It is no longer an affair of choice : 

He or the lady now is fairly in, 

He must be cured of his besetting sin. [Exit. 



.'30 OLDEN TIMES, OR 



ACT II. 

Scene I. — Lord Birkieshillock' s Library. 

Phil Dudeen (now dressed out as a footman and powdered, Sfc.) 

alone. 

Phil. It is as clare, as that I came from the County Clare, 
that if I have been meant for a gentleman's gentleman, it 's a 
misfit complate. I never can abide it. And in this house too. — 
I would require a pinsion in my ould age, for I should be passing 
my youth in the wars ! — Only the ould Lord and me of the male 
sect in the house, let alone the cat, which I believe is a gentle- 
man, or was — and, as far as I can see, there is no life for either ! 
I '11 dismiss them, I '11 pracess them ! — I will, by jappers ! unless 
there 's an ai-mediate change of government ! — (Rap at the door.) 
— There ! I wish I had as many raps in my pocket, as are dropt 
outside of that door. The very people in the streets, it seems, 
have a right to be waited on by me ; and if I don't go at what he 
may consider convenient speed, that fellow will not hesitate to let 
me hear of it. 

Exit, and re-enters leading in Hairbrain. 

Hairb. What ! is it you, my old acquaintance ? 

Phil. All but the does, your honour ! And did you know me 
again ? — Don't you see a differ? ( Touching his head, Sfc. and 
sticking a short pipe in his mouth.) 

Hairb. There certainly is a difference. I congratulate you on 
^our promotion. 

Phil. Promotion is it ? My curse upon such promotion ! 
When I fed the pigs — although they were furreiners to me — I 
was master of my business comparatively. (Puff.) Now I 'm 
come to feed the pigs' owners, every hand's turn is master of me 
complate. (Puff.) 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. -31 

Hairb. Do they allow you to smoke in your new vocation ? 

Phil. [Pocketing the pipe.) They don't; and that's another 
thing I ought to charge them for. The smoke is contraband in 
this place, as well as the tobaccky. 

Hairb. But think what a change of life ! These are very 
different clothes from what I saw you in last. 

Phil. That 's another of their impositions. Bless you, them 
does are not mine ! They belong to my praydecessor, or may- 
be successor, I don't know which; or whether it is to be a 
brother or a sister, as his Reverence says, for they have sometimes 
female footmen in this family. And there 's one thing in it, if 
their britches pinch them as mine does, they'll have no mind to 
wear them when they get married. My curse upon them knee- 
britches ! 

Hairb. I think you used to be more at liberty in that respect. 

Phil. You may say that. 

Hairb. Is my Lord at home ? 

Phil. He is ; but he 's rather particularly engaged at present. 
The fact is, he 's with my Ladyship, and I think there must be 
a good deal of business to go through, for she was talking very 
fast. It was about my praydecessor. 

Hairb. Ah ? And now that I think of it, how came your pre- 
decessor to leave ? What was his fault ? 

Phil. Upon my honor and conscience, I believe he had none ! 
He told me he had none, — only doing exactly as he was bid. 

Hairb. That was exactly my instruction to him. 

Phil. More shame to your honor; for I seen in my small 
practice, that woudn't be always over-playsing in this family. 

Hairb. What had he done in particular ? 

Phil. I believe there were various sundries, as they say. The 
first fault was in regard of a wig he burnt. 

Hairb. There have been many fallings out about wiggery. 

Phil. Your honor ? 

Hairb. Go on. 

Phil. He was fitting it upon my lordship, and it didn't fit at 
all ; but who could help that but the wig-maker ? — So the old 
lordship gets in a passion ; and he says, burn the wig ! — savs he. 

Hairb. Well? 

PhiL Why, the fire was convenient, and he did it. The next 



o'2 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

fault was about a clog — or it might be a puppy : any way it was 
a favourite of my ladyship's, 

Hairb. Then the chance is, it was a puppy. 

Phil. It was troublesome one day — gnawed a pracess ; and is 
there such a thing as a dockiment? 

Hairb. There is, there is. 

Phil It was some marriage articles; he treated them with 
contimpt — for a beast can't understand them things. 

Hairb. They don't — they don't. 

Phil. Well ! the old lord, in his rumstumpious way, bade the 
servant knock out its brains. 

Hairb. And he did ? 

Phil. What is a man to understand, your honor, if not a 
gentleman's word ? 

Hairb. And for so understanding the matter he was kicked 
out ? 

Phil. No: — The kicking was still behind. That happened 
in regard of delivering a compliment to her ladyship, that my 
lord had intended for private use. But the servant in some way 
or other made her sensible — and she took the trouble to make 
his lordship the same; — when his lordship signified by a foot- 
note, as I believe they call it, that the servant might take the 
other side of the door. 

Hairb. He was kicked out? 

Phil. Something that way; and being here at the same time, 
I was apprehended and incarcicated in his stead. — But I would 
sooner be a minister of state, that every body kicks, or a minister 
of the gospel, that must kick nobody, than remain in this purga- 
tory of a business"; cleaning plates and glasses that are not dirty, 
and breaking them, and having them cast up to me personally 
and by letter. Besides — notwithstanding the wig, and the trifle 
of a dog, my lordship will give directions, that are only fit for left- 
handed people. When he kem in, to-day, from Court, there 
was no wine drawn ; and he bid me fetch him a bottle, from the 
biff bucket that stands under the side-board. You'd better shake 
it well, said his Lordship, since you are at it; so I gave it a shake 
or two, looking steadily at him to see when it would be enough ! 
But may I never see such an eye again in the head of any old 
gentleman ! — It was like the lion's on Widdv MacMuddle's sign- 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 33 

board, in the town of Ennis ! — I saw it was to be a discharge of 
great guns entirely; so I put the bottle down easy — keeping 
my eye upon him, and abscondeded, as it might be this a-way. 
— (Imitating the action, he runs against Lord B.) 

Lord Birkieshillock. (Entering.) What's the matter wi' the 
daft rascal noo ? s 

Phil. Your Lordship's honor — Counsellor Hairbrain ! — Coun- 
sellor Hairbrain, his Lordship's honor. 

\_Exit — making signs of terror. 

Lord B. I 'm glad to see you, Harry ! Glad to see ye. But 
taulkin o' daft rascals, what a daft knave of a servant was that ye 
sent me ? 

Hairb. Did he not suit you, my Lord ? 

Birkie. Suit me ? He was surely mad. Ye had surely bitten 
him, Harry. 

Hairb. I had always found him an excellent servant, and most 
attentive to instructions. Your Lordship had noticed this — and 
for that reason begged him of me. 

Birkie. But geed gud min ! He had nae jeedgement ! He 
executed every thing to be sure — an' had vera nearly gotten me 
executed in consequence. He burnt my best wig, because a 
coudna get it to fit just at the first; knocket out the brains of a 
favourite dogue o' ma wife's, because I believe I bade him do 't 
in a hasty minute, ye ken ; and feenally an' aboon a', tauld my 
wife that I had ca'd her a bitch ! — Od, Harry, ye ken that woud 
never do! — To be ta'en by the hand in that kind o' waj', ye 
ken ! — 

Hairb. In short, you have parted with the man ? 

Birkie. Parted wi' him ! If he had been a' the men on earth, 
I man ha'e parted wi' him, after siccan disasters as that. — Weel 

— I 've been speakin' about dining wi' ye the day, notwithstand- 
ing — but the mistress 'ill no' hear o 't. 

Hairb. Of course, I mustn't set my judgment against a lady's, 

— but what is your own opinion, my Lord ? 

Birkie. Oh — it 's baurbarous — there 's nae doubt about that. 
But I man succumb. I got intill a terrible scrape the last time 
I was out — an' it's no' forgotten yet. 

Hairb. May I venture to ask the nature of it ? 

c 



34 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

Birkie. Whae — I suspeck I got fuddled — that's the first 
end o 't — but neither the last nor the warst : — I lost my watch ! 

Hairb. Your watch ? 

Birkie. An' after waitin a dielfu' time, an' incurrin a vast o' 
trouble an J expense — had to pay five pound to get it back again; 
an' glad I was that it was na waur. 

Hairb. Worse, my Lord ? I think it coud hardly have been 
much worse. 

Birkie. Am of a verra different opinion ; an' sae will ye too, if 
ye ever happen to be placed as I am. Suppose some jand had 
gotten it — the dear kens hoo ! — an' made a warld's won'er of a 
fallow, afore gi'en it up ! 

Hairb. Oh ! — but of course your Lordship woud steer clear of 
that — ? 

Birkie. Wha kens, Harry? Wha kens ? — When I'm a wee 
bit saftened, I coud be friens wi' a' the war], an' his wife. 

Hairb. Particularly the wife. 

Birkie. Weel, weel ! — sae ye see a man might ha' lost it verra 
innocently, an' yet in a way to gie a warld o' trouble. 

Hairb. But how had your Lordship lost it at all ? 

Birkie. That's a mystery. I coud never find that out. A 
cam' hame quite weel as I thought. But it was ane o' your 
Bachelor Parties; an' there's aye some screw loose in thae 
places. They had forgotten the hawm for the fowl, or it was na 
gude; so I took beef, cauld beef ye ken, instead; and the beef 
man hae been teugh, or the claret had been o'er cauld, or some- 
thing or other; so verra soon after I got hame, I got sick it 
seems ; sick as a dougue ! (dog) an' about day-light, I fund 
mysel in bed alane — an' no' in a verra bonny pickle. 

Hairb. You must have been regularly clayed. 

Birkie. In effect — in effect; — tho' in fact, I had ta'en little; 
But I own that Drunky had been my neist neighbour. When 
mornin' cam' I discovered my ither losses ; an' am free to own, 
I coud ha'e wished things ony way but as they were. 

Hairb. And how did you recover the thing at last ? 
Birkie. That 's as great a mystery. This only is certain, I 
saw it come hame mysel — in just sic a blackguard lookin' article, 
as ane o' thae jauds woud keep her trinkets in, an' wi' a maist 



THE HISING OF THE SESSION. 35 

execrable address! — and I was terrified out o' my life, that the 
mistress shoud a' thought it was a woman's haund ! 

Hairb. And you 're sure it was no joke ? 

Birkie. Wha by ? 

Hairb. Oh ! — suppose her ladyship ? 

Birkie. My wife ! Gude sake, speak na o' that ! — Na, na — 
she 's nae joker — I wis she were ! — But I hear her comin' this 
way, an' ye man be discreet ; for ye see I ha'e had a sair to 
plaster, an' it 's ony thing but weel. — 

Lady B. enters. 

Mr Hairbrain, my dear. 

Lady B. Oh ! I have seen the gentleman before. (Sits.) So 
the minute you get your head out of the Session, you wish to 
rush into the vanities of the Vacation ? And having no wife of 
your own, you wish to torment the wives of other men, by carry- 
ing away their husbands ? 

Hairb. A cheerful dinner with old friends, before separating, 
my lady — 

Lady B. Married men have nothing to do with such cheer- 
fulnesses. 

Hairb. Madam ! — 

Lady B. Particularly if they cannot take care of themselves ; 
and his Lordship knows whether he can ask me to take his word 
upon that subject. 

Lord B. I was just tellin' my friend Harry about that disaster. 
But ye shouldna be sae hard. Ye ken it was the beef. 

Lady B. Beef? Does beef make people drunk? 

Lord B. Especially if the beef was teugh — which it man ha'e 
been in this case : As teugh as an auld badger. 

Lady B. We '11 not risk it to-night. You are never the worse 
of what you get at home, even if it should be a word of advice ;- 
and Harry ! that you may not laugh at your neighbours, I '11 
give you a word of advice. 

Hairb. You '11 exceedingly honour me, Madam. 

Lady B. More than you have done by any advice you have 
ever yet had : — You are growing an old fellow now.— 

Hairb, I regret it exceedingly. 



36 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

Lady B. You should take the hint ; be wise, and an example 
to younger men — and take a wife. 

Hairb. Marry, and make an example of myself! — 

Lord B. Ye have her there Harry ! 

Lady B. Has he ? Is every married man an example ? 

Lord B> I did n a say that. 

Lady B. But you meant it. 

Hairb. My Lady, I say, with the utmost humility, that he 
ought to be it. But may I ask your Ladyship your opinion of 
the doctrine of original fun ? 

Lady B. I hate it ! and whatever impudence you, either of 
you, intend in this instance, I shall make an example of one of 
you, for once. He stays at home, to-night. 

Hairb. Would your Ladyship have them say of a Judge, that 
he had gone to the grey-mare school ? 

Lord B. Od's cause, be discreet, Harry ! — It '11 no' do ! — 
Besides I 'm nae sure, but noo that they ha'e made me a judge — 

Havb. A judge can never be injured by having the hearts of 
his practitioners. 

Lord B. D' ye ken, it tak's mair brains to sustain yoursel o'er 
a bowl, than it does upon the bench. 

Hairb. Your Lordship need fear neither. 

Lady B. To make a long story short, you must find somebody 
else to amuse yourself with for this night. 

Hairb. I bet your Ladyship five pounds, you don't detain our 
friend to-night ! 

Kate Birkie. — (Entering.) 

jOone ! for mamma, Harry. 

Hairb. Ah ! 

Kate. How are you, Mr Hairbrain ? 

Hairb. How are you, Miss Hairbrain. I wish I could say 
Mistress ! 

Lord B. Tak' care, Harry ! Ill 's soon done. 

Lady B. That 's a very polite speech, my Lord, both as regards 
your daughter and me ! 

Kate. Burnt bairns dread the fire, Mammy ! 

Lady B. You generally improve things the wrong way. 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 37 

Kate. Don't be so snappish, Mammy. Ye ken it 's no' your 
nature — at least you say so — till it was spoiled by marriage ! 
Now only think : I am now a young ivoman, getting up in years, 
and Mr Hairbrain is a man of observation : and if he always sees 
the old ones snapping at one another, he may think I 'm a bird 
of a bad nest. More foolish conclusions have been come to. 

Lady B. Catherine, have done. 

Kate. There again ! — For d'ye know, Harry, whenever my 
father speaks English, or my mother calls me Catherine, there 's 
a storm brewing. But clear up both of you. Be cheerful, hang 
ye ! as Jemmy Cursall says, or I shall take Harry at his word, 
and ask him to take me with him ! 

Hairb. I am ready, without asking. 

Kate. Well ! — I have heard less pleasant things said. But I 
fear you had better take my father with you. 

Hairb. It is precisely what I want ; but her Ladyship won't 
allow it. 

Kate. Mammy ! 

Lady B. Pshaw ! he wants to have him to some roistering 
party. 

Kate. Oh ! a party ? 

Hairb. Only that at present ; but, without prejudice, always — 

Kate. I understand; and whatever other people may say, I 
acknowledge that / think, that you can, when you like, say very 
pleasant things. So mother, why need you fly out ? All in good 
time. 

Lady B. Stuff. 

Kate. My bonny mitherie ! Ye ken ye have a most terrible 
temper ! Indeed, ye 're what, in joke, they call an absolute 
hempey ! — 

Lady B. Your impertinence is a proof of that. 

Kate. If your temper were but as sweet as your face 

Lady B. Stuff, stuff! 

Kate. ( To her father.) Has been. 

Lord B. Hah, hah ! 

Kate. Ay. Chuckle ye there, and be proud of your good- 
humoured lassie; but, at the same time, never forget the lassie's 
mither ! You '11 never pay your debt to her, my mannie, though 
ye mayna just be sensible o' t. 



38 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

Lord B. The lassie's daft. 

Kate. Ay ! She 's the ane that can keep you right, papy — 
whether you like it or no'. But shouldn't you be ashamed, that 
with all the wiping your wife gives you, like Phil Dudeen's knives, 
you are never clean? — And shoudn't you be ashamed, mammy, 
that with my imperturbable temper always before you, you are 
sometimes disturbed ? 

Lady B. I hope, girl, you may soon know the difference 
between playing a part in life, and playing the fool. 

Kate. I am perfectly ready, mammy ! Thanks to your up- 
bringing. Meantime, I am thinking what to say of this party, 
Harry; and I fear that as a responsible minister, I cannot advise 
her majesty to accede. He has fallen into a way lately, of getting 
drunk upon beef. 

Lord B. Katie ! Katie ! 

Kate. And really the last time he took his beef too strong, I 
thought we should have lost him. Now this, as Jemmy Potter 
says, in threatening to prosecute a client, would neither be plea- 
sant nor agreeable. 

Hairb. I yield me and obey ; but I tell you truly, that 

" You've ta'en away 
The life o' the building." 

Lord B. It '11 no' do, Harry. So gang awa, an' come an' 
tell us a' about it the morn. 

Kate. Ay, come and take the Englishman's favourite dish — 
pot-luck. 

Hairb. That's in retentis, in all events. 

Kate. Under protestation to add and eik, upon our part. 
Then good-bye, Harry, an' less wit and mair sense t' ye ! 

Hairb. Same to you, my dear madam, same to you. 

Kate. The only sensible thing you have said since we met. 

Hairb. Well, we'll not differ now ; I hope there's a good time 
coming. ( Goes.) 

Kate. Thank you ! (She also goes.) 

Lord B. Poor fules ! 

Lady B. There surely have been greater. But I wonder, my 
Lord, you would think of these ploies now. All very well for 
Harrv Hairbrain and the like of him, or even for Sir James 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 39 

Gimcrack, or the Earl of Puggie. Every hour of this kind of 
foolery is found money to them. They have no dignity to main- 
tain, but you are differently situated. 

Lord B. I feel that! And d'ye think I wad gang for the 
revelry ? 

Lady B. Indeed I think you are just like your neighbours. 

Lord B. It maun surely gie ye pleasure, to think your husband 
a fule ! 

Lady B. Far from it. 

Lord B. I said I likit to meet an auld freend — I said they 
are gettin' fewer than I wish. 

Lady B. And have you not young friends, and a young family, 
rising up about you in their stead ? 

Lord B. I wonder to hear ye. 

Lady B. Oh, you do ? — A devoted wife, and a fine family, 
are nothing to a man of a certain turn ? 

Lord B. Would you ha'e them every thing ? 

Lady B. Almost. 

Lord B. A bonny selfish brutt ye wad ha'e me. 

Lady B. My Lord ! my Lord ! — The man that loves and 
provides for his family, does the best part that a man can do ; 
and depend upon it, that in a moment of pain or difficulty, you 
would think little of any thing else, and little would any else 
think of you. 

Lord B. I 'm of a different opinion ; an' even if the warld's 
as selfish as you think it, I wad rather no' be convinced that ye 
are correck. 

Lady B. And this you call interchange of sentiments ? 

Lord B. A reckon sae. 

Lady B. In short, you wish to break up the colloquy ? 

Lord B. Oh no ; only I ha'e dune. 

Lady B. And so, of course, should I. J_Exit. 

Lord B. Humph ! No' that there 's no a great deal in what 
she says ; but are we to be buried afore we're dead? — Can a 
chiel think o' naethin^ but ae thinor ? — I wadna care if I were 
dead mysell, if I hadna a pleasure in seeing that others are 
living. 

Enter Phil, bearing a note. 

Phil. A letter, vour Reverence, from a vouno' woman ! 



40 OLDEN TIMES, OK 

Lord B. Ye should speak a little louder, and carry the letter 

to your mistress at ance. 

Phil. I will, your honour. [Exit- 

Lord B. Ah ! halloah ! — Peter ! Andrew ! Jock ! what the 

mischief's his name ! The scoundrel ! {Rings with violence.) 

Was ever a man sae plaguit, between a blockhead of a servant, 

and a brimstane of a wife ! 

Phil returning : 

Ye villain ! where ha'e ye been ! 

Phil. Delivering the letter, your honour ! 

Lord B. Was it for your mistress or me? 

Phil. Sure you desired me to deliver it to my Lady. 

Lord B. Did I no' ca' ye back the instant, sirrah ? 

Phil. I heard you call hilloh ! 

LordB. Well? 

Phil. Sure that 's not my name, your Reverence ! — My name 
is Phil — Phil Dudeen — sometimes get Phillipped. 

Lord B. The deevil phillip ye wi' a beetle ! But as ye ha'e 
dune a' the ill ye can this turn, ye may dicht yer neb an' flee up. 

Phil. Fly up, your Reverence ! 

Lord B. Gae down stairs, ye villain, and let me see nae mair 
o' ye! 

Lady B. (Entering.) Not for a few minutes. 

Lord B. As I judged ! 

Lady B. ( To Phil.) You got this letter from a young 
woman ? 

Phil. (Looking at Lord B.) Yes! I think she was; at least 
not so old as your Majesty. 

Lady B. I dare say not. 

Phil. Any way, he bade me carry it up to your Ladyship — 
quite wwdependent ; as much as to say, he could have nothing to 
say to women young or old, let alone your Ladyship. 

Lady B. Then why did he rate you ? 

Phil. Rate me ? — Faith I don't know, unless it 's a way that 
he has. But if the letter 's not pleasant, sure I can return it by 
the bearer. 

Lady B. Who is this person, my Lord ? 

Lord B. Hoo can I ken, when I never sae muckle as saw the 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 41 

letter at a distance ? That blockhead carried it up without leave 
or licence. 

Phil. "Well, I never ! I see there 's no use putting butter in 
your stir-about, my baby. 

Lord B. Will ye baud yer gabb ? 

Phil. Your Ladyship, he wishes to make out a story again' 
some onus ! — He desired me to carry it up to your Ladyship 
as «?zdependent as a prince, and as if he did n't care a devil who 
it was from ! He did. 

Lady B. W T ho is this person, my Lord ? She is asking money, 
and in very peculiar circumstances; very dangerous circum- 
stances, your Lordship's situation considered. 

Lord B. Will ye order me a strait jacket! — will ye tak' 
lodgings for me at Stane-dyke-b.ead, at £30 a-year, or five-and- 
twenty, without coal or can'le ? — Do ony thing in this wide 
warld, but dinna deave me wi' yer tongue ! 

Lady B. I 'm sure I 'm very mild, my Lord. 

Lord B. Mild ! — Ye could sneer a man to death, 1 believe, 
wi' a smile upo' your countenance, when ye tak' that way o't. 

Lady B. I thank you, my Lord ! — At least you'd better see 
the person. — Come this way, young woman. 

(Lady W. enters disyuised as before.) 

This letter sufficiently explains that you want money. 

Lady W. Yea — yea — ye-s ! 

Lady B. Don't cry, but answer me : — And you consider 
yourself to have a right to insist in this ? 

Lady W. Ye-ss. 

Lady B. Have you no answer, my Lord ? 

Lord B. Naething but this, that I ken naething about it ! 

Lady W. He — he — he may know. 

Lord B. It's a lee, ye limmer ! I ken naething about it — 
nor about you; — never saw ye before to my kennin', an' noo 
that I do see ye, I wis ye war far aneuch. 

Lady B. Don't be rude, my Lord ; she is still a woman. — 
My advice to you, young woman, is, to correspond through a 
Solicitor ; and, as a friend of this gentleman and his family, I 
recommend that he be respectable and prudent, or he may do 
more ill than he intends. 



4*2 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

Lady TV. Mr CursalPs my adjutant ! 

Lady B. You could not have a better nor a worse. ( To Lord 
B.) You '11 be unfrocked ! No decent Judge will sit on the 
bench with you ! ( To Lady TV.) Go ! and never darken these 
doors again. 

Lady TV. Tha-ank you, my Lady ; I wish I had known you 
had been so good ! 

Lady B. I require no compliments from you ! — All I have to 
say is, go, and never let me see you more. 

Lady TV. Ye — ye-s. (Lady TV. curtsies and exit.) 

Lady B. And now, my Lord, you look pale. Have you 
nothing to say ? Nothing ? — Well, I must speak myself; — and 
it is to say first, I am sorry for you, for myself, and your family; 
and next, that I '11 do nothing rashly, for their sake. In the 
meantime, you may now go and dine where you please ; for until 
I have considered this matter well, I would rather be alone. — 
Robbie ! Robbie ! [Exit. 

Lord B. Come back! — Come back, I say, woman! — No, 
she 's gane ! (Seeing Phil.) Ye infernal villain! are ye there 
yet ? Gang out o' my sight, or I may be tempted to end ye ! 
(Phil goes.) Was there ever sic an unfortunate deevil ? A 
bonny endin* o' the Session for ance ! Dine whare ye please ! 
Ye ha'e spoiled my dinner for ae day. A may as weel gang out 
and be meeserable, however, as stay in an' be meeserable ; — an' 
I daresay Harry's as likely to be of use as anither, an' there 's nae 
time to be lost. — A won'er wha the brimstane can be? An' of 
a' the wins that ever blew, what blast drave her here ? How- 
ever ! (Putting on his hat with both hands.) [Exit. 

Phil entering. 

Phil. Well ! I never seen nor heerd of a dacent boy in a more 
completer scrape, nor that poor old Lordship ! — I do bless all 
the saints this day, that I 'm not a blackguard Lord ! I' 11 clane 
my knives with a better heart this night any how. Och hone ! 
och hone ! — what a happy thing it is to have nothin' to answer 
for ! By all the haythen gods and goddesses, an' ducks an' little 
fishes, this is the worst job a boy could be in, provided he is 
found out. (Bap at the street door.) I can't say you 're without 
a rap, any how. It 's a wonder you don't sport your ring at the 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 43 

same time. (Another rap.) There ! do that again, and see if I 
won't astonish you ! [Exit. 

Re-entering with Sir Thomas Wildgoose. 

Sir Thos. Is the family at home? 

Phil. No; my Lordship has just gone out, for some time I 'm 
thinking; and the rest of us are in grief. 

Sir Thos. Any one dead ? 

Phil. No ; not dead, any how. 

Sir Thos. Is my Lady at home ? 

Phil. She is, and the young lady: — Do you wish to see them 
both at the same time ? 

Sir Thos. No; my Lady only. [Gives a card, and exit Phil. 

Sir Thos. (Alone.) It's clear his Lordship dines out, and I 
have never known her Ladyship to make parties in his absence ; 
and yet that puppy said he should meet Lady W. here. There 
has been a mystery about Lady W. this morning, and now I 
think of it, for many mornings. She seems no longer to wish to 
see me ; she seems to have found some other amusements, in 
which she has no desire that I should take part. Now, all this 
precisely has happened with myself; but it is so much more 
natural in a man to find pleasure in out-door amusements. — 

Phil returning. 

Phil. Pray, sur, may I have the goodness to inquire, have you 
been guilty of any of the mortial sins ? 

Sir Thos. What do you mean, sir ? 

Phil. Sweetheartin' without a licence; forsaking your natural 
begotten wife; — dolley-mopery of any description ! — All them 
are sins that are veynial with some — mortual with others; and 
if you can lay your hand upon your heart, an' say them sins are 
mine, this is no place for you, as I could instance to you, if it 
wur convaynient ! 

Sir Thos. Is your lady at home ? 

Phil. I — I should think she is, for I seen her with my eyes ; 
but she says she is not* and its rayther a bold thing to differ from 
a lady, you understand ? * 

Sir Thos. Did you give her my card ? 

Phil. Is it the ticket you mean ? 

Sir Thos. Yes. 



44 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

Phil. I did ; but I should n't think it was any letter of recom- 
mendation, for she threw it in my face — hot me there, sur ! — 
and said in the most deliberate and limphatic manner 

Sir Thos. Emphatic. 

Phil. Em what, sur ? 

Sir Thos. Emphatic. 

Phil. Any way, she said very distinctly and perpendicularly, 
" Not at home /" — and seemed to think that I should be of the 
same opinion. So that either she don't like you, or she is afraid 
you are looking for dinner, or it's the fashion among the quality 
to treat their friends as they like. 

Lady B. {Entering.) Sir Thomas, is it you ? I did not wish 
to be at home to any one, for very particular reasons ; but I have 
seen by your not going, that this booby is exposing us as usual. 

Sir Thos. Your Ladyship seems moved and disconcerted. If 
so, I am sorry I have intruded. 

Lady B. Oh ! you know enough of marriage, I suppose, not 
to be surprised at an occasional uneasiness ; and, in short, to be 
explicit with you, as it may do you good, his Lordship has been 
behaving as you too often do, and I cannot afford to behave as 
your Lady does ; so I have requested him to withdraw from 
this house till I can be otherwise disposed of, and I trust you 
will pardon me, if in such circumstances I would rather have 
been alone. 

Sir Thos. And he is gone ? 

Lady B. He is gone, sir. 

Sir Thos. Well, I have no intention of defending any irregu- 
larity of any kind. 

Lady B. It would ill become you in particular, Sir Thomas. 

Sir Thos. But Lord Birkieshiilock has so many great qualities — 

Lady B. Does the possession of talents in his profession, and 
even the due application of them, absolve a man from the neces- 
sity of possessing any other estimable qualities ? I suppose it is 
upon this principle that you seem to think, that a man has only 
to have an estate, to have no quality whatever, either good or 
bad ; or rather, that it is an excuse for the absence of every good 
quality, and the presence of all bad ones. Now, / think, that 
rank is disgraced by the presence of even inferior abilities, and 
that bad conduct in addition, should exclude the individual from 
society. 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 45 

Sir Thos. You are severe, my Lady. 

Lady B. Not half as you deserve. And now that you think 
fit to take up the defence of such conduct, and I suppose have 
come from the Individual 

Sir Thos. I beg pardon, my Lady. — If you mean my Lord, I 
have not only not come from him, but I have not even seen him 
for many days, and I am ignorant of every circumstance to which 
you allude. 

Lady B. So much the better for you both. 

Sir Thos. On the contrary, I came rather on the subject of 
grievances of my own, and exceedingly similar to what your 
Ladyship seems to complain of. 

Lady B. I thought they would come at last. What are they ? 

Sir Thos. Why — but I think the servant still waits. 

Lady B. (To Phil.) Go. (Phil goes.) Well? 

Sir Thos. Was Lady W. to dine here to-day ? 

Lady B. I never heard of it. 

Sir Thos. Nor any gentleman of her and your acquaintance? 

Lady B. Certainly not. What next ? 

Sir Thos. Why, a gentleman called on Lady W. to-day — I 
may add, a gentleman whom I did not expect to find of her 
acquaintance ; and finding her absent, he, as it would seem, by 
way of excuse, said it was of no consequence, as he should see her 
at dinner here. 

Lady B. Well? 

Sir Thos. Well; — from several circumstances, it occurred to me 
— I am sure I can't say why — to call here and ascertain the 
truth of this, and perhaps the circumstances of this acquaintance. 

Lady B. And who is the gentleman ? 

Sir Thos. Why, he is certainly hardly worth naming; but it is 
Lieutenant the Honourable, (as we must call him), Thomas 
Scamper. 

Lady B. The greatest blackguard going, as I understand. 
But does this give you any uneasiness ? 

Sir Thos. Can you doubt it? 

Lady B. Why I almost doubt my own senses when 1 hear 
you ask the question. Lady W. is a fine woman — most people 
think so, and I decidedly think so y but have you ever acted as if 
you did ? From the moment that you have been married to her 



46 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

you have neglected her, and made her the most contemptible 
thing you can make her — a despised wife; I hope she will 
always have sense and virtue enough not to make herself any 
thing worse — that is to say, a despicable one. But be that as it 
may, you could have no reason to complain. 

Sir Thos. You surprise me, madam ! 

Lady B. No right in the world, sir, but the contrary. For 
now that you bring me to it, I must tell you. you are a monster, 
and deserve to be treated accordingly. You have ruined the 
prospects of a fine young woman, by making her the wife of a 
bad and despicable husband! For that, sir, you should be 
ashamed, ay, as much as if you had made her the wife of the 
most dishonourable of his sex; — for what are you but a man 
perjured? But you seem not contented with that; for now that 
you fear the betrayed and unhappy creature seems to be looking 
to herself only, you appear to think, not of righting her, but of 
ruining her outright ! — And this can only proceed from a malice 
as selfish, or a stupidity as ungenerous, as your other conduct to 
her has been unmanly and base. 

Sir Thos. You astonish me ! Am I not to look after my own 
honour, madam ? 

Lady B. A man that behaves as you have done, forfeits all 
claim to be considered to have honour. Your honour should 
have consisted in behaving properly to the woman you have 
married ; or if you could not do that, in enabling her to quit 
you, and make another choice. You have done neither. I hope 
from my heart she may escape the fate you are preparing for her. 
If i" can meet her, she shall not want my warning, my advice, my 
assistance, my protection ; for if I have not her other qualities, I 
have at least more firmness, and a stronger sense, I doubt not, of 
her rights and my own, and of the demerits of yourself and all 
like you ! /have determined to punish a bad husband, and I '11 do 
it; but I will neither punish myself at the same time, nor even 
ruin him ; or rather, now that I see you, and think of your past 
conduct and your present, bad as he is, 1 consider him an angel 
of light to you ; and for that and for his family's sake, it would 
give me no trouble, comparatively, to shake hands with him, and 

bid him go and be a fool no more ! But you ! But your 

time is coming. The excuse given you, had no meaning that it 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 47 

was intended you should understand ; but it doubtless had a 
meaning — a distinct meaning — and one that makes you the go- 
between of the parties you would detect and punish. 

Sir Tho. Madam, I know your intelligence and your firm- 
ness. {Lady B. bows.) I came to you expecting at least respect 
and sympathy. 

Lady B. How could you expect either, from a woman that has 
any sense of right ? 

Sir Tho. You have not heard what I wish to do by Lady W. 

Lady B. Do you wish to recover her good opinion and affec- 
tions — if they can be recovered ? 

Sir Tho. Is there no punishment due, even for but wavering 
in thought ? 

Lady B. No ! — The punishment ought to be entirely yours, 
for your conduct has led to her transgression. She must be far 
gone indeed, if she is not as good as you are ! 

Sir Tho. And yet you never hinted at any disrespect like this 
before ? 

Lady B. Why should I ? While your wife endured you, I for 
her sake endured you. But are you so silly as to believe, that 
every one that behaves civilly to a fool, respects him ? I might 
have my own opinion of your icife's endurance; but I had no 
right to interfere. I should have been branded as an inter- 
meddler. But now you have put yourself in my power; and, 
instead of feeling sensible of your own errors, you seem to think 
of yourself only as an immaculate man, and your wife as the sole 
defaulter; and can you expect I should not tell you the truth ? 
You alone are to blame, and you are deeply and dreadfully to 
blame. Go home, humbled and penitent ! and endeavour to 
retrace your steps, and regain the affections you have so foolishly 
cast away ! Do this or nothing ; or not only shall / despise you, 
but all the world should despise you ! 

Sir Tho. (Falling on his knee and grasping her hand.) Madam! 
You have hurt me exceedingly, and I think done me injustice ; 
but I willingly admit that you have also done me good. I will 
think better of this matter, and more kindly of the unfortunate 
subject of both our thoughts. May I entreat you then to recall 
at least a part of your cruel sentence. 

Lady B. I must first see how you merit it. 



48 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

Sir Tho. I will merit it. I promise it on my honour and on 
my life ! I entreat you, continue her friend; and let me hope 
that in due time you will be mine ! (Kisses her hand.) 

Enter Pumpkin and Waggery, followed by Hairbrain and 

Kate. 

Pumpk. What ! We 're got into a church ! 

(Sir Tho. Starts up.) 

Pumpk. How are you, my Lady ? Hope we don't intrude ? 

Lady B. Not in the least, as I am concerned ; Sir Thomas 
may think he ought to be rather better protected, by the pre- 
sumed privacy of a gentleman's residence. 

Sir Tho. It is a misfortune that those who have not entered 
life, can have little idea of the interests and feelings that agitate 
those who have. 

Wag. In short, we have been intruding, as Sir Thomas is 
concerned ; and as we only wished to pay our respects to Lady 
B. — being in the house 

Pumpk. Quite clear we ought to be off: set of wild beasts 
going loose. Good morning my Lady. 

[Exit — bowing to the others. 

Wag. Good morning ! Morning, Sir T. ! Ah ! [Exit. 

Hairb. Miss Catherine will bear me witness, that understand- 
ing your Ladyship to be engaged, I had no intention of present- 
ing myself; therefore, if any error has been committed, I am 
free. [Exit. 

Sir Tho. I have only to repeat the entreaty I have just made, 
and to follow these very mannerly gentlemen. [Bows and exit. 

Kate. Why, what is all this, mother ? 

Lady B. You have seen it all. 

Kate. But what brought Sir Thomas on his knees ? and to 
you, who have always despised and disliked him ? 

Lady B. My very strong expression of that disliking and con- 
tempt. I have at last taken the opportunity he offered, of telling 
him my mind ; and you see he has had the good sense to wish 
to alter my opinion. 

Kate. And that man — that sleepy — slovenly — good for nothing, 
— is serious in seeking the good opinion of any one ? 



THE RISING OE THE SESSION. 49 

Lady B. More than that, I think you may henceforth hope to 
see him seeking the good opinion of his wife ! 

Kate. Then are you a worker of miracles ! — 

Lady B. I have always told you, she spoilt that man by indul- 
gence. I have told him the truth, and I see that he has both 
sense and feelings. 

Kate. I never at least saw him look more like a man of sense 
and a gentleman. 

Lady B. I hope he is roused. Have you caused the shutters 
of my room to be closed ? 

Kate. I have. 

Lady B. Then I have nothing farther to interrupt my misery — 
till tea time ! And I desire you '11 remember and not disturb me. 

Kate. Certainly not, mammy. 

Lady B. Oh the mad, mad man ! Oh ho, ho, ho, ho ! 

\_Exeunt. 



ACT III. 

Scene I. — Winter's Tavern. 

Enter Hairbrain and Will Winter — Will with a towel 
under his arm, and in the constant attitude of setting off on a 
trot. 

Hairb. Well, Will ! 

Winter. Hoo are ye, sir ? — Hoo are ye ? Glad to see you 
after a' the toils o' the session. 

Hairb. Yes, Will, another Session is over. 

Winter. An' a terrible Session it has been for mony ane, nae 
doot. 

Hairb. No doubt, Will; but somehow people always get 
through that and every thing else. 

Winter. That 's true — ae way or ither ; but hard wark, espe- 
cially when they ha'e to deal wi' the like o' you. Icod, I wad 

D 



50 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

rather rin twa h under times a-day to a cellar for twenty year.* 
as I 'm sure I ha'e dune for the last ten, than encounter ae Ses- 
sion o' a Court o' Law. 

Hairb. You would make more by it, Will, especially if you 
were to be the patient. 

Will. Na, od ! patient or nae patient; deil a me if I wad ken 
whilk end o' me was uppermost, wi' your ringin' o' bells, an' 
rinnin' here an rinnin' there — pleadin' this an' pleadin' that — 
yer summonses and your interlocutors, replies, duplies, and haill 
process ! — an' a' to a day — an sic lees as ye tell ! — 

Hairb. Yes, Will ; a case is nothing but like a fiddle, as it is 
played upon. 

Will* Hah, deil play them, say I ! Hooever, that 's nae busi- 
ness o' mine ; only mony ane gets o'er the fingers wi' 't. 

Hairb. Yes ! as my dear friend, Jamie Cursall, says to a losing 
client, and says truly — " Ye canna baitk win." Have ye got 
married yet, Will ? 

Will. Na, thank ye ! — ane 's anew i' the family ; an* as Tarn's 
the head o' the firm like, and consequently the gentleman, I leave 
a' thae things to him — / ha'e plenty to do forbye. 

Hairb. Any body come yet ? 

Will. Nae just the hour. (Pulling out his watch.) But my 
Lord has been here some time. 

Hairb. My Lord ! I am delighted to hear that. 

Will. Ay ; wishes to see you preevately, as soon as you come. 

Hairb. Why did n't you tell me ? 

Will. Yehinna been lang here. This way, sir. {Exeunt. 



Scene II. — Another apartment in Winter's tavern. 

Birkie alone. 

Lord B. (As Hairbrain enters.) Come awa', Harry man, an' 
sit doon here, an' speak solidly an' rationally, an' no be makin' a 
fule o' us. 

Hairb. No occasion for that, my Lord. 

Lord B. Ay ; ye're aye haein' me, Harry ; but sit doon. 

* So primitive were their arrangements at this time, that any house was made a 
tavern, and they had cellars perhaps far distant. 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 51 

Hairb. I little expected this pleasure, my Lord, but it is a 
very great one. 

LordB. Ye ha'e it a' to yoursel, Harry ; I ha'e nane o't. 

Hairb. What 's the matter, my Lord ? Any thing happened ? 

Lord B. Muckle mischief has happened, an' that, ye ken, is 
nae little. I hardly ken hoo to begin to tell ye ; but this is cer- 
tain, I 've been turned oot ! 

Hairb. Turned out ! 

Lord B. Nae less, Harry ! But, to gie the auld chield his 
due, she was verra quiet, puir thing ! — But I fear it 's a black 
heat, an' that, ye ken, is the warst heat. 

Hairb. But what has happened, my Lord ? 

Lord B. That confounded beef again, I reckon. 

Hairb. I 'm quite at a loss. 

Lord B. Ye maunna speak o'd, Harry, for it's nae joke: — A 
jaud cam' seekin' siller — that's a' ! — an' to the verra door too; 
an' that blockhead of a servant carried the letter up stairs ! 

Hairb. Seeking money ? For what, my Lord ? 

Lord B. Wha kens ? Inlyin', a reckon. 

Hairb. You astonish me ! 

Lord B. I was astonished mysel. 

Hairb. But your Lordship surely did not submit to the impu- 
tation ? 

Lord B. What could I do ? 

Hairb. Why, you surely don't mean to admit the possibility ? — ■ 

Lord B. Hoot, Harry ! 

Hairb. Your Lordship can surely have no doubt of the falsity 
of — of any accusation like that ? 

Lord B. 'Od, Harry, I believe ye 're as great a fule as if ye 
were a woman ! 

Hairb. Oh! I beg pardon. (Aside.) I have you now — and 
I '11 hold you ! 

Lord B. It maun ha'e been that beef, ye ken ! — I maun ha'e 
been fou' ; at least, that 's the best that can be said. 

Hairb. I see. 

Lord B. An' fortunately, if the warst comes to the warst, it's 
no' hang in! . But hoo to get o'er it best, an' aboon a', to get it 
out o' the wife's head, fou' or no fou', that's the point we maun 
consider; for she swears for a separation. 



52 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

Hairb. Impossible ! 

Lord B. Fack ! — Noo, the truth is, I sometimes think that 
should be nae great hardship ; an' yet, when it comes to the push 
I find I wadna like it. I didna think I likit her sae wee] ! 

Hairb. Rather than that should happen your Lordship speaks 
of, I would — do almost any thing. 

Lord B. I thought ye would, Harry. — Ye 're a gude chiel ! — 
Man, an' 'twere na for yer Whiggery, there 's naebody o' yer 
age that I would like sae week 

Hairb. Tut ! the whole of a family should n't be upon one 
side. 

Lord B. Family, Harry ? What d' ye mean about family ? 

Hairb. Suppose me to become a little more nearly related ? 

Lord B. Wha, Katie ? Oh, Harry man, be wise ! — I doot 
ye 're nae a saunt mair than mysel, an' thae tricks mak' a terrible 
jumble in matrimony! Katie's a gude lassie, Harry — a gude 
lassie ; but that should only mak' us the maer cowtious. Aboon 
a' things, if you should ever be in that way, keep yer character ; 
for if that 's ance lost, they '11 believe every thing that 's ill o' ye, 
and naething that 's gude. Ye even begin, as ye see, to mistrus* 
yersel !— an' it's a great folly. 

Hairb. My Lord — 

Lord B. Na, na, ye maun get quit o' yer tricks first, an' aboon 
a', o' yer Whiggery. It 's a puir trade, Harry — pawtriotism's 
a puir trade ! The best o' patriotism for a puir man, is some- 
thing he can put in his pouch ! — I mean honestly, of course. — * 
But as to our present deil-himme (dilemma.) 

Hairb. I 'm ready to do any thing that may completely solder 
the matter. 

Lord B. Weel, that's friendly — that 's friendly. What wad 
ye think o' takin' wi' the bairn yersel ! 

Hairb. Nothing would hinder me, but the wish to have a good 
name with Miss Katie. 

Lord B. I '11 speak till 'er mysel, if need be — throw in an odd 
thoosand may be, into the sattlements. 

Hairb. Could you not say the word then, as you are yourself 
concerned ? Let it be understood between us? 

Lord B. No the noo — no just the noo ; I wadna like to con- 
neck it wi' sic a blackguard affair. 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 53 

Hairb. Hem ! — Then how stands this matter ? Have you 
admitted or denied? 

Lord B. There is a hitch there, Harry ; for I was ta'en sae o' 
the sudden, I said neither meevock nor mavock ; neither buff 
nor stye ! 

Hairb. That was bad. 

Lord B. I was bumbased ! It cam' like a thunder-clap ! an* 
just at the tail o' a quarrel. 

Hairb. It could have done no harm to have denied it at least. 

Lord B. That may do for the neist time, but what 's to be 
dune the noo ? 

Hairb. I have it — I have it. 

Lord B. Let 's hear, man ! 

Hairb. You thought it a very good opportunity for getting 
out to dine with your friends ! 

Lord B. Od, I believe ye 're right, Harry ! A '11 be hanged 
if ye 're no' right; an' dine wi' ye I shall, an' that royally; for, 
between oursels, I was in a deevil of a funk ! If she had gane 
to the rigour, they might ha' unfrockit me, and that wad a been 
a terrible affair ; but noo I think I can stand the die ! But hoo 
could the quine mak' sic a mistak' ? — There comes the deevil 



again ! 



Hairb. Why, people often take a travelling name, yon know ? 
Your Lordship is known to be fond of — of a joke — I '11 say I 
look your name. 

Lord B. [Elated.) You dog! (Relapsing.) But it was a 
great liberty — ? od, I'm afraid it wad be o'er great a liberty. 

Hairb. Not at all. What ! did n't my friend, drukken Jamie, 
on being found rolling drunk in the streets, hiccup out — " I 'm 
the Lord President, but say naething about it," — and secure the 
greatest attention in consequence ? 

Lord B. The rascal ! I hope he had a gude bill to pay for it. 

Hairb. And shan't / pay for it ? 

Lord B. That's true, Harry. — There will be some siller 
wantit, an' we maun see about it. But might it no' be as weel 
to ha'e gi'en nae name, an' then the jaud might ha'e followed ye 
into our hoose ? 

Hairb. The very thing; and I had just left the house. 



54 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

Lord B. That 's the bit, Harry — that 's the bit ! Ha ! ha ! 
'od, I '11 eat my denner wi' sic an appeteet ! 

Hairb. But did she not see your Lordship ? 

Lord B. 'Ad rat her, ay ! There comes the muckle black 
deevil at last ! We '11 never get out o't wi' fleein' colours, 
Harry ! Never, man, never ! 

Hairb. Had the vagabond no modesty ? 

Lord B. I dinna ken what ye mean. 

Hairb. Did she look boldly and unblushingly up, and plainly 
and plumply accuse you ? 

Lord B. In gude troth I was lookin' twa ways at ance mysel at 
the time, an' sae I can say vera little about that ; but on the 
whole, and to do the jaud justice, I think she was dung near 
about as stupid as I was. 

Hairb. Then, I think that '11 do. 

Lord B. Plague on ye, Harry ! 

Hairb. The bairn is mine ! 

Lord B. Ye 're a gude chiel ! — Ye 're a vera gude chiel, an' 
I '11 no' forget it. Noo, as a burn becomes aye the langer the waur, 
an' I would fain let the puir body the mistress, get a sleep — 
an' to own a truth, ha'e a chance for a sleep mysel, — what sup- 
pose I gie you the siller, an' ye write a bit note, saying that 
ye had heard o' sic a thing, an' was sorry, an' sic like ; but gude 
sake let na on that ye heard it frae me ! 

Hairb. Leave all that to me. 

Lord B. But is it gay weel sortit noo, think ye, Harry ? 

Hairb. Decidedly. 

Lord B. I think sae — I really think sae. Then a' that I 
ha'e to say is, ye maun tak' some care o' the bairn. Ane wadna 
like to suspeck even, that their flesh an' blude might be shiverin' 
wi' cauld, an' we weel an' warm. 

Hairb. Certainly not. 

Lord B. Or that it should steal and be hanged ! 

Hairb. Terrible ! 

Lord B. If it 's a loon, ye maun mak' a writer o'd — something 
that can tak' care o' itsel; but dinna breed it a Whig, Harry, or 
I '11 be like to fell ye ! (kill you.) 

Hairb. Oh, no ! Patriotism is only for the purest spirits. 






THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 55 

Lord B. Harry, Harry, man, dinna vex me at the last. If ye 
were a Lord or a Duke, ye might be a patriot, or a pugilist, or 
ony thing that wad help to get rid o' a useless life ; but oh, man ! 
he serves a bad paymaster that serves the public, except it be in 
an established trade. Ye may live by preachin' or by cobblin' — 
pickin' holes in a law plea, or sowtherin' them up, because they're 
acknowledged professions ; but patriotism ! doin' gude for glide's 
sake — for gude's sake, never think o 't ; it gars a man be 
thocht a fule ! Whereas your mere idiot that but minds the 
main chance, gets into wealth and influence, fathers himsel 
maybe upon the State at last, an' tho' naturally a moon-calf 
becomes your great man. 

Hairb. He must be a silly fellow that can't turn good to 
profit, when so many fools can make profit of meanness and ras- 
cality. 

Lord B. Weel, upon that principle, Harry ; — but dinna forget 
the profit — for it 's the stang o' the trump. 

Hairb. Out of respect to my own principles, 1 shall consider 
it a point of honour to make them profitable, and yojt shall 
see it. 

Lord B. " I icish I saw it," Harry, quo' blin' Sanny ! 

Enter Winter trotting. 

Winter. Ready, gentlemen ? 

Lord B. I believe we are, Harry, except that bit note. 

Hairb. And the consideration. What are they doing, Will ? 

Winter. 'Od, I believe they 're about some pictur' o' Jemmy 
Trockie's. It had a vera fine inscription, shewing that it was a 
Principal of a College ; and some evil disposed person has putten 
a ticket on 't, sayin' it was only an auld Glasgow barber ! 

Hairb. Let them dwell upon that for a few minutes, meantime 
send our crier. 

Winter. A '11 do sae — a '11 do sae. [Exit Winter. 

Hairb. Now the consideration I ventured to hint at, is that 
little matter about Katie. I exceedingly wish it settled. 

Lord B. As I said before, Harry, no' just the noo. I really 
ken nae impediment, if the lassie be willin' ; but I dinna like 
just to bind mysel the noo. As my freend, Francie Lauder, 
says, " I '11 gie ye my v)ord of honour, but I '11 no' bin' mysel !" 



56 OLDEN TIMES, Oil 

Ye hinna gotten a. Sheriffship yet, nor ony permanent bit thingie 
whatever. 

Hairb. (Aside.) I mark that! Here's a pretty long day, and 
a very pretty contingency ! But I '11 punish the vagabond ! 
Lord B. An' wha 's to be king, Harry? in this bit ploy ? 
Hairb. (Aside.) The Devil ! 
LordB. Eh? 

Hairb. Oh ! your Lordship, of course. 

Lord B. Na ! That wadna be decorous noo. If it were na 
that ye 're a Whig, I woud say that ye shoud be king yoursel. 
But oh man ! gie some sma' place till a bit Whiggie, if they 're 
no' a' haunged ! I wad like to get a laugh at the creatur ! 

Hairb. Why, I mean to conduct my government entirely upon 
Whig principles. 

Lord B. I wonder to hear ye, Harry ! even though it be but 
an alehouse frolic ! A government consistin' o' independent Whigs, 
woud be ane of the devil's raeps. The best thing in their case 
woud be, they coudna hang thegither till they were dead ! 

Hairb. Give them the power, and they would hang together 
till you would wish them dead. 

Lord B. An' that wad be the warst o' the twa, Harry ! 
Hairb'. I am sure you would think so. ( To the Servant.) 
John, admit our council. 

Serv. Yes, sir ! — (Exit. Then in long sonorous notes, calls as 
follows. ) 
'Stair Andrew Belfrey, of Steeple-head, E — squire /* 

(As they are announced, the gentlemen enter and bow.) 
Sir James Gimcrack, Baronet, of Old-Kettle- Hall ! 
Right Honourable the Earl of Puggie, and Baron of Fiddle- 

Faddle ! 
Sir Thomas Wildgoose, Baronet, of Gander-Hall ! 
Right Honourable the Earl of Whims ! 
'Stair James Trockie, of Farthing-Hall, Esquire ! 
'Stair William Waggery, of Colley-shangie Place! 
James Cursall, Writ-tar ! 

* 'Stair, is the termination of Master or Mr ; and the cry here intended is peculiar 
to the Parliament House, if not now lost even there. John Graham, was perhaps 
the last of the true breed. He was, like Milton's Nightingale and Mann J us 
Sutton — 

•« Most musical-- most melancholy," 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 57 

Hairb. ( Standing at a table, where the paraphernalia of a 
crown, gilt ■poker, §*c. are placed ; and near two chairs of state.) 
Being a sufficient council, therefore, tell our Caller that he call 
no more. 

Crier, The Queen and her female women, number one — six ! 

(Lady W. enters as Queen, followed by attendants, and taking 
her place in one of the chairs, is silently welcomed.) 

Hairb, My Lords and Gentlemen ! In consequence of an event 
of which you are all aware, the removal of our predecessor to a 
higher sphere, I have been called to the important situation of 
your Emperor and King. 

Crowd. Long live the King ! 

Hairb. {Assuming the crown.) Let us proceed to business. It 
is the law in ordinary realms, that the king has the choice of his 
ministers ; but the custom that he only chooses one. That one, 
of course, must be of some one opinion; and the consequence is, 
he calls about him only parties of the same opinion. In this way, 
the king is only king of a faction. We mean to alter all that. 
We mean to be sovereign of the entire state, not of a part of the 
state only ; to have men of all parties in our government, that all 
parties may be represented. Satesmen should be like soldiers, 
ready to serve when called upon, in whatever situation the State, 
through its legitimate organs, may deem them most fit to occupy. 
Without this, one of the powers of the state is in abeyance, 
namely that of the crown ; or worse, it is made the mere instru- 
ment of a predominating faction ; and with excellent instruments 
of government every where around him, the king may be reduced 
to so many rotten sticks. Therefore, we will lay our commands 
on whomever we consider best qualified to serve the state, not 
most disposed to serve themselves ; and the bond of union in our 
cabinet shall be, not their pleasure but ours ; not their interest, 
or the interest of their allies, but the interest of the people, who 
must pay them all. For this end we have decreed, and do decree 
as follows : — First, All parties are abolished, as being an insult to 
the State, and a mark of narrowness of understanding. Second, 
The elements formerly split into parties, are henceforth united 
into one State. — And to conduct the business of this State, we 
have appointed and do appoint as follows: — The honourable 



58 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

Robert Lord Birkieshillock, commonly called Lord Birkie, Vicar- 
General and Keeper of our Great Seal. Right honourable Andrew 
Belfry, Chancellor of Exchequer, he being beyond all men quali- 
fied to turn an actual midge into an oratorical mountain ; and 
that being the especial business of all Chancellors of Exchequer. 

Belfry, I thank your Majesty, and do not doubt all my super- 
eminent qualities will be required, whether in reference to your 
Majesty's virtues or finances. 

Hairb. Sir James Gimcrack, Baronet, Keeper of our Privy 
Seal ; he having the peculiar qualification of being able neither 
to read, nor write, nor speak. 

Sir James. Under sic a load of compliments, it shoud be equally 
difficult to stand or sit. 

Hairb. Right Honourable the Earl of Puggie, Foreign Secre- 
tary ; he being very much abroad in most of his undertakings. 

Puggie. It is great praise in a nobleman, to be found under- 
taking any thing. 

Hairb. Sir Thomas Wildgoose, Baronet, Home Secretary ; it 
being very important that his thoughts shoud be turned in that 
direction. 

Sir Tho. No commands can be necessary to attach me to that 
department, while it continues to be graced by the presence and 
the virtues of its present dear sovereign. 

Hairb. Right Hon. the Earl of Whims, Colonial Secretary; 
colonies having from time immemorial been exceedingly fond of 
whims. 

Whims, I shall endeavour to manage that henceforth their 
whims shall be of the right sort. 

Hairb. Right Hon. James Trockie, commonly called Jamie 
Trockie, Speaker and Manager of our Commons House of Par- 
liament; from his admirable powers of speech, his astonishing 
attachment to lumber, and wonderful talents in buying and 
selling it. 

Trockie. I wis' I coud sell my lumber, as your Majesty sells 
your law. 

Hairb. The Right Reverend James Cursall, Chaplain in Ordi- 
nary ; he being much addicted to short prayers. 

Cursall. I can say with great truth, nolo episcopari, I am utterly 
unworthy even to bear the name. 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 59 

Hairb. Well, sorrow for sin is the first step to amendment : I 
wish every right reverend were in as good a state. This is our 
decree. The parties may kiss hands, and, above all, pay in the 
dues of their patents to our Exchequer. 

( They go to get ribands for Stewards, Sfc.) 

Crier. ( Without.) Right Honourable His Majesty's Court 
Fool! — 

Enter Pumpkin in opera hat, fyc. 

Pumpk. How are you ? Nunkie, how are you ? — (Goes to sit 
down on the throne.) 

Hairb. That is reserved for a greater than you, for this day. 

Pumpk. True, I am only an ordinary fool. All places dis- 
posed of? 

Hairb. All that would suit your talents, we are sorry to say. 

Pumpk. Oh ! never mind the talents, the salary is the thing. 
I 'm ready for any thing adequately paid ; and if the duty can be 
done by deputy, so much the better. Could you not make me a 
bishop on leave of absence ? 

Hairb. Sorry to say that department is full. 

Pumpk. Nor on half-pay ? 

Hairb. No such thing known, tho' it ought to be. 

Pumpk. Um ! Coudn't you stick me into some commission of 
two or three thousand a-year ? And leave me to stick the com- 
mission when I tire of it ? 

Hairb. We are going to abolish all unnecessary places. 

Pumpk. I understand ; pension off enemies and appoint friends, 
with double salaries, for doing half the duties. Give me some- 
thing sure to be abolished, and I '11 thank you. I '11 retire upon 
full pay without a murmur. 

Hairb. We are positively going to rule without patronage. 

Pumpk. Without what ? 

Hairb. Patronage. 

Pumpk. Patronage! — Why, the thing is a crime prepense — 
a design against the liberties of the people; for if you can't lead, 
you must drive. Rule without patronage ! Its a. pactum illicitum. 
But I see how it is. You think I am a man of principle, and 
therefore, that I despise interest ; I '11 shew you that 1 am a man 
of interest, and that my interest is myprinciple. 

Hairb. Why, if an opening suitable to your talents 



60 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

Pumpk. Don't add insult to injury, if you please ! Where were 
my talents when they were passed over ? What is the use of 
power if it isn't to make people happy? And how so surely 
make people happy as by a comfortable place ? The country 
should be one universal place ! — and not confine the noblest of 
all human ambitions — that, namely, to serve the country, to the 
mere pickers and stealers of a court ! But if the king has no 
power to reward merit, the country has; and the rewards of 
virtuous popularity are far above any thing in the power of a 
court. Free and independent Electors of Yelpington, I am yours ! 

Wag. That is too open, brother Peter, Consistency ! — 

Pumpk. Consistency ! — What is consistency ? Being once a 
fool to be always a fool ? 

Crowd. Hear, hear ! 

Pumpk. True consistency consists in being truly consistent. 

Crowd. Hear ! 

Pumpk. To steer always to the same point, tho' by a thousand 
shiftings of the sails ! 

Crowd. Hear, hear, hear ! 

Pumpk. What the world calls consistency, may be the most 
arrant dishonesty; for it may oblige a man to act in a particular 
way, tho' he no longer thinks within a thousand miles of it ! 
What /call consistency never can, for it is to steer for the one 
point, without minding the process; and that one point, the repu- 
tation, preservation, and interest of — the party. 

Crowd. Hear, hear, hear ! 

Pumpk. If every one takes care of himself, the world is taken 
care of ! Surely that is very simple ; and if every one is reputable, 
the world is so. 

Crowd. Hear, hear ! 

Pumpk. " Man take care of thyself," should be the eleventh 
commandment ! 

Crowd. Hear, hear, hear ! 

Pumpk. And, as a young professional man, I consider it my 
especial duty to follow, and, as a public character, to enforce it. 
No. The public is a discerning public, tho' it makes mistakes. 
It is a generous public, — if you are dead and not likely to discredit 
its kindness. Therefore, I love the public; whether I do or 
not, my best course is to praise it, and so we shall most probably 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 61 

end in praising one another. In the meantime, knowing what 
its wishes must be, towards its true servant, as I profess myself to 
be, I do no more than my duty to my generous constituent, by 
steadily and zealously labouring to serve myself. 

Crowd. Hear, hear, hear ! 

Pumpk. This is my creed, personal and political; and tho' 
others may surpass me in zeal, I will yield to none in sincerity. 
If I said I preferred the public to myself, I should be a liar ! or 
if I were not a liar, I should be a fool ! 

Crowd. Hear, hear, hear ! 

Pumpk. I come, in the last place, to think of my constituents. 

Crowd. Hear ! 

Pumpk. And I will say one thing; and that is, constituents 
should remember that they are constituents, and not absolute 
monarchs. 

Crowd. Bah — Ratting ! Going over to the individual! 

Pumpk. And were I taking leave of them for ever, but not 
before, I should say, mind yourselves ! 

Crowd. Hear, hear ! 

Pumpk. Preserve your capital ! It is no where so safe as in the 
hands of those that earned it; and no where less safe, than in the 
hands of those who could never have earned anv thins:. No 
Taxes ! they are at best necessary evils. No Tithes ! they are 
good for nothing but enlightening the ignorant, and making 
every one as intelligent as one's self. Down with all manner of 
every thing, and up with all manner of every other thing — if you 
believe that the world was never in its senses till now; and I hold 
it undoubted, that it must be the opinion of every puppy, on first 
opening its eyes, that the world has been in darkness till that 
time, and that it has been a terrible sight ! 

{Exit Pumpkin — And the rest move off, Sir Thomas 
giving his arm to Lady W.] 

Lord B. (Looking at them.) Whan cam' that change? 
Wag. Very recently, I think ; but it shews his tact. 
Lord B. What has happened ? 

Wag. He has only been making love to another gentleman's 
wife ! 

Lord B. Havers, sir ! The thing's' not known in this coun- 



62 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

try ; nor will it be in my clays or yours. Some common 
tram per ! 

Wag. " Where ignorance is bliss/' — but your Lordship knows 
the proverb. 

Lord B. Is the fallow daft ? [Exeunt omnes. 



Same Scene, — Cursall leading in Hairbrain and Pumpkin 
by the buttons. 

Cursall. Come in, ye buckies ! Ye ha'e been excruciating me 
this half-hour wi' your nonsense, but I have ye noo ! 

Hairb. What is the matter ? 

Cursall. Buzziness, and just supervened. 

Pumpk. I suppose you remember we must pay for our din- 
ners ? — 

Cursall. D' ye want me to knock ye doon ? 

Hairb. What is the case ? 

Cursall. (Fumbling in his pockets.) The case is But I think 
I ha'e lost my summons ! As bad as Fiddle Willie — carried sae 
mony papers, that he lost a hundred pound stamp in his pouch ! 

Hairb. Perhaps you have changed your dress ? 

Cursall. The deeviPs in thae dress parties — theyshoud never 
ha'e been creatit ! — It is as ye say : However the case is very 
short. 

Pumpk. A woman's ? 

Cursall. It is, if that be ony recommendation. 

Pumpk. Young ? 

Cursall. Atween the twa, as Davy danced : — About my ain 
age, I reckon ! 

Pumpk. Handsome and lady-like, of course ? 

Cursall. Wha ever heard of a washerwoman being handsome ! 

Pumpk. Found heiress to a large estate ? 

Cursall. A vera large yin ; the haill estate of sin and misery, 
wi' a' the improvements ! 

Hairb. We shall come at the facts of the case at last. 

Cursall. Attour, she has lost her gudeman ! 

Pumpk. Ah ! her case is not wholly black. 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 63 

Cursall. A large family, and nae a bawbee to put i' their 
heads ! 

Pumpk. The usual advertisement in all such cases. 

Cursall. But puir fallow ! Tho' he could do little for them 
while he lived, I think he has succeeded in brakkin' his neck for 
their benefit ! 

Hairb. and Pumpk. ( Together.) Ah ! 

Cursall. Yes ! Some masons ha'e been diggin' a found ; a sunk 
area, as I think they ca' it. 

Hairb. Ay. 

Cursall. V the middle o' the hie road, an* left it open of course, 
as every Scotsman does, till he has had experience o' the thing. 

Hairb. And your friend has made it an area of his existence ? 

Cursall. Confound ye, Harry ! But I believe you woud pun if 
ye ware gaum' to be hanged ! 

Hairb. Very likely ; for in that case I should be a subject of 
Pww-ishment. 

Cursall. Weel, nae to gar ye ride it to death, and perhaps 
farther, the honest man fell, and in due time became " a total 
loss." As the villains are wealthy, I ha'e been gem' them the 
length of their tether. I have left them wholly to their ain dis- 
cretion ; for when I see ony thing like a wish to be honourable, 
I 'm sic a saft bitch. 

Pumpk. No poaching for compliments ! 

Cursall. Weel a weel. I 've sae muckle mischief in me, I 
ha'e really, I may say, laid a trap for the vagabonds ; they have 
never written nor come near me, and noo their day is out. What 
think you of the case ? 

Pumpk. What have you asked ? 

Cursall. Twa hunder. 

Hairb. Was the man sober ? 

Cursall. As a Judge — 

Pumpk. Ought to be, of course ? 

Cursall. Dinna provoke me. 

Pumpk. And they have never written you ? 

Cursall. No' a scrap of a pen. 

Pumpk. Mr Hairbrain ? 

Hairb. I think there can be but one opinion. 

Pumpk. They are liable ? 

Hairb. Certainly. 



64 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

Pampk. And have not improved their position by their con- 
duct ? 

Hairb. Certainly not. 

Pumpk. Well, if you really ask our opinion, we think the 
defendants have broken their own necks as well as your friend's. 

Cursatt. I 'm glad to hear ye say sae ! F m delighted to hear 
ye say sae ! An' wi' your good leave, we'll ha'e a meeting to fix 
the damages the morn. In the meantime, I have been thinkin' 
about the sevent' figure; an' noo I 'm at hame to naebody upon 
this subject. 

Hairb. You are perfectly -correct. 

Cursall. I wish the puir body the wife coud hear ye ! But I 
man gag ye, baith o' ye, frae bein' against me at least, sae, {and 
he tenders money ;) at the same time I 'm bund to tell ye it's no' 
a rich case at present ; but if I dinna aye pay, 1 '11 guarantee, at 
least, what '11 keep the pat boil in' 

Pumpk. You villain ! 

Cursall. Eh ! 

Pumpk. You know the easiness of my nature ! And that I 
must keep your rascally counter, or I am not secured ; but do 
vou think I have not another to knock you down with ? ( Throw- 
ing it at him.) 

Cursall. The laddie's gyte ! 

Pumpk. Fll serve you faithfully ; Petrus affirmat ; but don't 
insult me. [Exit. Pumpkin. 

Cursall. Saw ye ever the like ? 

Hairb. He is quite right. There must be nothing of this in 
the meantime. Is the poor man buried ? 

Cursall. Decently, but nae mair. I did na think I coud avoid 
that. Ga'e the bairns some duds too, but no' new. I was sorry 
for the bits o' bairns; but I did na play the fule a' thegither. 

Hairb. I am sure you did not. ( Offering money.) 

Cursall. What 's that ? 

Hairb. You shoudn't do every thing. 

Cursall. But man ! There 's mair nor the honorary there ! 

Hairb. If I gave no more than that, I should give nothing. 
Mr Pumpkin merely acted on the spur of the moment, but he '11 
concur with me. 

Cursall. Let me look at it, but no touch it, in case I shoud be 
tempit. 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 65 

Hairb. You ought not to refuse; it is hardly your right to 
refuse it; it is for the poor woman, who, after all, may never get 
any thing else. 

Cur sail. ( Taking snvff.) Ye' re right ! I ha'e nae right to refuse 
it, unless I mean to mak' it up, which I 'm free to own I had nae 
intention o' doin'. — ( Taking the money.) — The creature 'ill get 
a mangle, as she was speakin' o', after a' ; an' wha are they that 
are doin' this ? An infernal scooneril of a writer, an' twa rascals 
o' law-wirs ! for that 's the way they speak o' us. 

Hairb. No matter. I have seen something of the profession 
for ten years, and am satisfied to be of it. 

Cursall. An' I ha'e kent it for mony tens, an' am just o' 
your opinion. Oh man ! the fine fallows that I ha'e kent in 
it ! clever, honest, leeberal, warm-heartit ! an' no' sae muckle as 
thinkin' aboot it; an' gane — a'gane; dear a me! dear a me! 
It's really awfu' ! — At the same time, there are rascals in it that 
the deevil woud be ashamed o' ! — that woud trump up an account 
against a broken man or a deein' woman, tak' their last penny in 
part, an' pit them i' the tow-booth for the balance ! that 's certain 
— an' that they ha'e plenty whan better folk want. But ye man 
gang to your dinner; gae wa' — an say naething about this that 
we are doin', or they '11 be makkin ballants on us. 

Hairb. All I request is, that you '11 consider me entirely at 
your service in this matter. 

Cursall. I do, I do — as firmly as if ye were my auldest friend ; 
an', d' ye ken, that 'ssayin' muckle. The truth is, Mr Harry, I 
ha'e likit a' that I wish to like, I believe, in this warld. I hate 
to herd wi ony but o' my ain standin', an' that 's what maks 
mony think me sic a savage ! But I 'm driven till 't ; an (shak- 
ing his hand in both his) I 'm glad to meet wi ane noo an' then, 
that reminds me o' the aulden times ! — Gang an' leave me, 
Harry! Gang an' leave me: — when I think o' thae things, I 
believe I 'm no' mysel ! 

Hairb. Farewell then. [Exit Hairb rain. 

Cursall. I 'm no' mysel the noo, but a daft auld beast ! What 
does that callant care for me — unless it might be to laugh at me ? 
No. — I '11 no' think sae. — He — he is an exception. He man 
come an' see me. 

£ 



60 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

Enter B irk ie, leading bach Hairbrain. 

Birkie. Here alane, Mr James ? 

Cur sail. Just for the minute, my Lord. 

Birkie. Sae ye ha'e gotten a female client ? 

Cursall. I have that same. 

Birkie. Is that jaud no' at the auld chiel yet ? nor likely to 
gae? 

Cursall. (Astonished.) She was na there whan I cam' awa\ 
(Hairbrain makes signs of secrecy to Cursall.) 

Birkie. Ye man sowther it up, Jemmy ! Ye man sowther it 
up ! — Nae credit in carrying things o'er far for thae kind o' 
cattle. 

Cursall. I wonder to hear ye, my Lord ! It 's no like ye ! Ye 
used to like the meesic* o' a process as weel as ony ane, an' I 
hope ye '11 aye like justice. 

Birkie. A process is a vera bonnie thing, if it's weel conduckit, 
an' ye happen no' to be a party. 

Cursall. A party ! Your Lordship a party, wi' a parcel o' auld 
Bunker's-hill builders ! 

Birkie. I dinna ken wha it has conneckit me wi' — but I sus- 
peck I 'm implicated — through a friend, that is — eh, Harry ? 

Hairb. Yes, my Lord, through a friend. 

Cursall. Weel, I man only be mair cautious, that I dinna frae 
respect to your Lordship, betray the interests o' my client, an' 
sae become liable for the damages mysel'. I 'm nane o' yer cant- 



ing sons of- 



Birkie. I ken, I ken. 

Cursall. But " the puir an' the rich are met thegither" wi me ; 
I'm a Christian in that, at ony rate. 

Birkie. I 'm vera sensible o' your merits, Mr James ; an' that 
compels me to say, I woud rather have ye for me than against 
me. 

Cursall. Noo, dinna be whillying,f my Lord ! for I canna 
stand it; an' if I stay muckle langer wi ye, (which is quite 
irregular if ye be a party,) I'll damage my case. Why did na 
yer augents answer my letter ? 

* Music. t Wheedling-. 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 67 

Birkie. If you '11 believe me, 1 never heard of it. 

CursalL Then you are very ill represented. It 's a loose tran- 
saction a' thegither. 

Birkie. That is as it is ; but surely the damages canna be sae 
great as your face seems to say. Eh, Harry ? 

CursalL It 's i' the hands o' Counsel, my Lord, and they have 
na advised ony mitigation, but vera muckle the reverse. Had 
your augents come forward, like gentlemen, in time, an' offered 
the twa hundred pounds I first proposed 

Birkie. Twa hundred pounds ! 

CursalL Ay, an' I couldna noo tak' your five ! 

Birkie. 1 'm bumbased ! five hundred pounds proposed for an 
affair of this kind, an' by a sensible auld practitioner ! If you 
had said forty 



Cursall Forty ! The puirs-house price of an ordinary 

Birkie. Say nae mair about that Mr James, — say nae mair — 
but let me hear how you mak' up your estimate. 

CursalL Whae, {taking snuff,) common law, an' common sense 
gang hand in hand in this, an' that's no always the case, we'll 
alloo — 

Birkie. Wee], allow it. 

CursalL Weel, baith by common law an' by common sense, if 
any man in a common thorofare 

Birkie. Common thorofare, Harry ! 

Cursall. Or in any other place where the lieges have a right to 
go upon their lawful occasions, an' upon their lawful business. — 

Birkie. Weel? 

CursalL Shall — : — 

Birkie. I daresay I ha'e a guess o' the ither particulars ; but 
hoo, in the name of a that 's abominable at ance, comes it in this 
case to be sae vera highly penal ? 

CursalL Is it naething to tak' aff the head of a family ? 

Birkie. I dinna understand ye, Mr James. 

CursalL To gar a man brak' his neck then ! 

Birkie. Hoo could that be? an' what man? 

CursalL Why, the woman's gudeman ! 

Birkie. Had the jaud a husband ? That ends the process ! 

Cursall. On the contrary, I 'm bund to tell your Lordship it's 
just there that it begins. 



68 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

Birkie. You astonish me, James. 

Cursall. An' your Lordship astonishes me mair than I like to 
say, baith in the way ye argue the case, an' in ha'eing ony con- 
nection wi' 't. What ! a Judge ! a Senator o' the College o' 
Justice ! — that should be an example to other people 

Birkie. You're steppin' beyond your province, James! 

Cursall. No' an inch, my Lord ! no' a hair's-breadth ! 

Birkie. A vast o' inches, sir ! an' a vast o' hair-breadths. I 
consider your words impertinent, an' your action nimious and 
oppressive, and led in the warst — the vera warst faith ! 

Cursall. What ! an assertor o' the law to turn a transgressor 
o' the law I an' when he has had his dance, to refuse to pay the 
piper ! 

Birkie. If I had had twa h under dances, sir \ 

Cursall. Twa hunder ! was ever the like heard ! But what 
could your Lordship mean by ha'ein' ane ? It couldna be for 
need, for ye ha'e plenty already. 

Birkie. Ye ken naething about it. 

Cursall. Ye couldna mean it for family purposes ! What the 
sorrow then, that I should say it, could set you to howkin' o' 
founds ? 

Birkie. Howkin' o' founds ! W 7 hat kind o' founds ? 

Cursall. Hoo many kinds ken ye ? The founds o' houses, to 
be sure ! Like a common builder, an' in a common thorough- 
fare, an' lettin' people fell themsels by leavin' them unfenced ! 

Birkie. An' is this your female cleeint's case ? 

Cursall. An' a vera gude case it is. 

Birkie. I wis' ye joy o't. I ha'e naething to do wi't. 

Cursall. An' what 's your Lordship's case ? — a disputit march- 
burn ? 

Birkie. We'll speak about that when it comes. In the mean- 
time, we ha^e had sic a fence at the win', Jemmy ! 

Cursall. I 'm real sorry- 

Birkie. I'm vera glad ! Only to think hoo ye could tak upon 
ye, ye Villain, when ye thought ye had me in your clutches ! 

Cursall. Would ye ken the truth ? 

Birkie. Ye 're a real savage, Jemmy, as every body says. 

Cursall. Is na that dreadfu' ! The fack is, I was vexed out o' 
measure ye was like to spoil my process. 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 69 

Birkle. I believe ye ! 

Cursall. Yes ! wicked as ye think me, when I find that I 
eanna gang back without hurtin' my client, nor forward without 
hurtin' a friend, it has aye been the deevil and the deep sea to 
me, an' sae 1 thought it was like to be in this case. But hoo 
the 

Birkie. Hush, Jemmy ! — hush ! Though I could hear ye 
swear for a fortnight upon sic a joyfu' occasion, 1 would rather 
no' the noo. 

Cursall. Hoo could ye pit up wi' me sae lang ? — Lecturin' 
an' lecturin' as if I had been a Lord President. — Ha, ha ! 

Birhle. Ay, an' me cowerin' an' cowerin' as if I had been a 
criminal ! It was rich, Jemmy — it was rich ! 

Cursall. 'Od, I'll tell ye what, my Lord, the cap maun ha'e 
fitted ! 

Birkie. No' half sae weel as our dinner will, noo that we 
understand ane anither. But I say, Jemmy, ye rascal ye ! 

Cursall. Ay ? 

Birkie. If sic a vagabond should come across ye, an' implicat' 
me in ony way — ye understand ? 

Cursall. Leave them to me. If ony ane o' them thinks I'll 
gang ae hair's-breadth beyond what I think right, when an 
honest man's concerned, they ha'e got the wrang sow by the lug, 
an' I let them ken it. 

Birkie. An' yet, Jemmy, they '11 never mak' you nor me an 
elder of a kirk ! 

Cursall. A sax an' aught-penny knave like me an elder ! — 
when they can get a decent fallow of a wine-doctor, that can turn a 
hunder pound in a mornirf by his trade ; or a merchant in a great 
way, that can turn a thoosand, by sellin' a cargo till himsel, an' 
touchin' baith the profit an' the commission ! 

Birkie. Ay, or yane of yer great cotton lairds, wi' his bairnies 
workin' till him twenty hours out o' the twenty-four, at three 
farthings a-day, an' fin' themsels. 

Cursall. Or, to stick to our muckle merchant, touchin' twice 
the price of a rotten ship, by merely drowning the crew ! Thae 
fallows can affoord to buy a character for charity and sanctity. 

Birkie. An' wad need it. Jemmy; but ye 're growin' cen- 
sorious. 



70 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

Cursall. After lecturin' a Judge for a law-breaker, I think I 
may do ony thing. But the decent orders o' society (as they ca' 
themsels,) ha'e had the whip hand o' us puir bodies o' lawyers for 
lang. 

Birkie. An' yet we ha'e thriven, Jemmy. But we owe it to 
themsels to equalize the returns on capital, or our law-rogues 
may be tempit to turn merchants. 

Cursall. We couldna live amang them. What's a sax an' 
aughtpence to mak' up for lost time ? And yet I ha'e felt my 
conscience plaguin' me about even that. A merchan' wad think 
it nae sin to mak' as mony thoosands in a mornin'. 

Birkie. He maun ha'e a conscience like a Kilmarnock cap ! 
Cursall. I wonder ye would compare it wi' sic a decent 
article. [Exeunt arm in arm. 

Hairb. 'Tis education makes or mars us all. — 

The Lawyer thinks the Merchant's gains too great, 

Forgetting what he risks for all his gains ; 
The Merchant thinks the Lawyer's bill a cheat, 

Because his capital is in his brains. [Exit. 



ACT IV. 

Scene I. — Birkie's Library. 

T rookie. (Entering with Phil.) Sae, ye 're noo the toon ser- 
vant ? 

Phil. Only for this day, or till I can see the old Lordship 
back again. 

Trockie. Back again ? 

Phil. Oh ! you don't know he 's gone ? — He 's dismissed ! — 

Trockie. Dismissed ? — 

Phil. Without wages or board! — an' with a character that 
I 'm thinkin' would do him no good in his next place. An' 
tho' its only a pig's choice that 's in it, let alone the young lady, 
I feel that I did n't like the old Lord the worst. Besides, it's so 
on-nathural ! 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 71 

Trockie. What has been happening ? 

Phil. He's been in the family way ! 

Trockie. Prodigious ! 

Phil. Yes; sweet-heartin' without the pray-cowtions. The 
mistress, to do her justice, talked very sensibly upon the pint. — 
They are always calmest when they know they've got the right 
pig by the ear ; but it 's then I expect to see them most onrai- 
sonable, and so it has proved at this present writing. She 
dismissed him with the most superstitious ceremony ; an' of 
coorse it was a real separation. There 's no chance of the least 
pusillanimity there ! — an' if there's no pusillanimity between man 
and wife, in my opinion, they had better be non-resident, or 
take a plurality ! 

Trockie. That '11 a' come richt again. 

Phil. I 'm glad to hear you say so ; because it shews you wish 
well to the dacent boy — but it 's ^possible. 

Trockie. Could I see the mistiess ? 

Phil. Not a taste of her. She 's locked up above stairs, tearing 
to tatters all men, women, and children, which she calls being 
not at home ; tho', I 'Jl be bail, there 's not another in the three 
kingdoms more at home in that same than she is ; the blessing 
of all bad children be about her ! 

Trockie. I have an important communication for her. 

Phil. Did you mean by coorse of post ? 

Trockie. No; it 's a bit cairdie. (Shewing it.) 

Phil. (Retreating from it.) My curse upon all cards and card- 
makers, say I ! It 's a card that 's created all this ruction ; an' 
the raison is, it was n't a card at all, but an inlying letter they 
call it. 

Trockie. An inlying letter? 

Phil. So they say; but it could n't have done more mischief, 
if it had been lying all out. My Lady scolded my Lord about 
that bit of a scrap, not the big of my hand, as if it had contained 
all the curses in a Catholic Bray-viary. In coorse, my Lord 
scolded me, by way of paying the bearer ; but he, poor feller, had 
the worst on it. Then another gentleman came here — Sir 
Thomas Double-yew — D' ye know the gentleman ? 

Trockie. I have seen him. 



72 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

Phil. A very civil spoken gentleman he is, and a very party 
card lie carries; but not the real potatie after all, perhaps ? 

Trockie. It 's no easy kennin' wha is. 

Phil. Seems a particular friend of my Lady's, however, and 
does n't give a devil for his own wife. — A fashionable thing, 
perhaps, in some places ? 

Trockie. I 'm no just a man of fashion. 

Phil. Would you like to hear a secret about that gentleman ? 
I would n't be surprised if he 'd take her Ladyship off our hands 
with very little of a differ ! 

Trockie. No' possible ? 

Phil. Seen it myself ! What would you think of kneeling and 
kissing hands, and cetera, and cetera, and cetera ! 

Trockie. He 's been beggin' or borrowing but never making 
love. — And noo about the bit cairdie? 

Phil. A bad hap'orth entirely. She seems to have taken an 
antipathy at cards : — Would n't take Sir Thomas's even. Hot 
me smack in the cheek with it, and I was glad she did n't give 
her hand in the bargain — by which means I '11 carry no more 
cards to-day. Where is my Lordship ? 

Trockie. I '11 tell ye, if ye '11 get me a word of her Ladyship. 

Phil. But that 's the very thing I 'm sworn again'. More 
than that, I wouldn't be surprised if it's an offence, even my 
speaking to you. 

Lady B. [Entering.) It is a very great offence, and you're 
constantly offending in one way or other. 

Phil. Did n't I tould you ? 

Lady B. Why don't you bring up a message when it's given ? 

Phil. I was just explaining why to Mr Truckie. 

Lady B. To Mr Trockie ? Do you mean to disgrace the 
house in every way f 

Phil. No ; I only sayin' I did n't understand this business, 
and it's a truth all out, an' I never can ; and if you don't on 
your marrow-bones without loss of time, I 'm gone ; and then 
you have n't a male crathur to purtect or glorify you. 

Lady B. The fewer the better. 

Phil. Your Ladyship does n't say that from your heart; 
acknowledge that, and I forgive you ! 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 73 

Lady B. Will you go down stairs, sir. 

Phil. Order me to go and find my Lordship, and I give you 
a week's arnings. 

Lady B. Philip, I say, go down stairs. 

Phil. (Aside.) Ay ! old story — " Turn the pigs out o' the 
parlour, there 's gentlemen expected !" Always sends me out of 
the way when other gentlemen call. I '11 take the small liberty 
of remembering that, any how. [_Exit. 

Lady B. Now, James, what is the business? If it is any thing 
about business past or future, with your late patron and employer 
in this house, you may have done before you begin ; for I have 
no longer any thing to do with him or them. 

Trockie. Guid forbid that that were true, my Lady ! 

Lady B. Nothing, Mr Trockie, nothing ! — He had a good 
opinion of you ; and therefore I may say, that I have forgiven 
and forgiven, till I am tired forgiving. 

Trockie. My Leddie ! ye ken ye 're commandit to forgive your 
brother, not only seven times, but seventy times seven ; which is 
vera near the five hundred. 

Lady B. Ay ! a brother ! not a word of a husband. To for- 
give him once, is to forgive too often; — as every one will find 
from dire experience. However, — that's at an end. 

Trockie. I hope not. 

Lady B. What ! You also wish to encourage iniquity ? Have 
you seen your friend ! 

Trockie. No, my Leddy. But I wis' I had, sin' it wad ha'e 
gi'en you pleesur' 

Lady B. Me pleasure ? Have I not told you I have done 
with the — unprincipled person? 

Trockie. Weesht, weesht ! or the hoose '11 fa' upon us ! 
That's no a way to speak of lawful authorities — at no rate. 

Lady B. He has no more authority over me 

Trockie. I '11 no' hear ye, my Leddy ; dune wi' yer lawful 
husband ! Is your Ladyship a — a cattle ? an' marriage a halter, 
that ye can slip aff an' on at pleesur ? If my wife war to speak 
in that way, I wad think the warld was comin' till an end ! 

Lady B. I am done with him ; done for ever, Sir ! and now, 
what is your business ? 

Trockie. 'Am really frightened to speak to you, my Leddy : 



74 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

But I ha'e a bit notie here, that I promised to deliver 
safely. 

Lady B. From whom ? 

Trockie. Mr Hairbrain. {Giving it.) 

Lady B. That's another pretty specimen. However. (Opens.) 
« My dear Lady B. ! " Really ? 

Trockie. Dinna refuse to read it, my Leddy ; he seemed vera 
muckle in trubble. 

Lady B. " Having just met an old acquaintance, — of a descrip- 
tion I need not mention to your Ladyship, — she informs me, 
that having followed me to your house, believing it to be my own, 
and being brought suddenly into your presence, and hardly daring 
to look up, she fears she may have created confusion." Confusion ! 
" I would rather have explained this matter to my Lord; but 
finding, on calling, that he had gone out, I think it right to say 
at once, that the visit that has annoyed you, was solely on the 
business of your very faithful, though in this instance unfortunate, 
H. Hairbrain." Was there ever such a villain ! 

Trockie. It seems to ha'e been a mistak', my Leddie ! 

Lady B. (Reading still.) " P. S. I entreat that until I can 
see you, nothing to my prejudice — may be said in the family." 
The world must be coming to an end indeed ! — He comes to 
my house, and brings disgrace upon it ; parts its master and mis- 
tress, through his scandalous conduct; confesses all this, — and 
then has the impudence to request me to say nothing about it, 
till he can see me, forsooth ; and persuade me, as I suppose he 
still hopes, to let my daughter marry him, or what is of greatly 
more consequence, convey to him a portion of her father's fortune ! 

Trockie. Since your Ladyship con'eshends to ask my opinion, 
— if what you say be true, it's no' just richt. 

Lady B. Right ! But my husband, Mr Trockie ! know you 
any thing of him ? 

Trockie. I do not, my Leddie. 

Lady B. My poor, dear, decent, honest, innocent man ! what 
can I do to recompense Mm ? or where find him? or how look 
him in the face ? oh, how I have abused him, Mr Trockie ! 

Trockie. I wid na doot it, my Leddy. 

Lady B. And without the least shadow of a cause. 

Trockie. That's a great pity ! 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 75 

Lady B. And the poor, dear, innocent man, never opened his 
mouth ; but he looked so pale, Mr Trockie ; oh ! so pale as he 
looked ! 

Trockie. He would be vexed, my Leddy, to see you so unrea- 
sonable. 

Lady B. Throughout the course of our married life, I have 
never abused him as I have done to-day ; and he coming home 
so obediently, after finishing his session ! I'm sure if he forgives 
me this time, 

Trockie. Oh, my Leddie ! wha wad ever think o' dwellin' 
upon a feelish word fae a woman ! 

Lady B. Oh, Mr Trockie, but I'm obliged t'ye. 

Trockie. If I could but find out his Lordship — 

Lady B. Do you think you could n't ? 

Trockie. I '11 try of «' things. 

Lady B. Do, do. You must take a glass of wine ? 

Trockie. I '11 stop for naething, my Leddy. 

Lady B. It's so good in you. As for your friend Mr Hair- 
brain, 

Trockie. Speak na o' him, my Leddie. I hae deen wi' him ! 

Lady B. He need never again enter these doors. Phil, you 
villain ! open the door ; — or rather tell your young mistress to 
come down stairs, — and I'll see Mr Trockie out myself. And 
when you see my Lord, tell him that every thing is explained, — 
every thing ; and that his warm supper, and his warm fireside are 
waiting for him. 

Trockie. I will, I will, my Leddy. 

Lady B. And never part with him till you see him home ; and, 
in all events, come back yourself; for I 'm miserable till I hear 
tidings or no tidings. 

Trockie. I un'erstand. [Exit Trockie. 

Kate enters. 

Lady B. Oh, Catherine ! what do you think ? I have been 
wronging your poor father, — dreadfully, dreadfully ! 

Kate. That 's nothing new, mammy ! 

Lady B. Now, none of your impudence ! I '11 shew you cause 
to your cost. 

Kate. Me cause ! 



76 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

Lady B. Yes, — you. Yet, now I think on it, why did he not 
speak ? answer me that ? 

Kate. Perhaps he wanted to get out — to more agreeable 
company. 

Lady B. No, minx ! for he is not with that company. 
Kate. Then I '11 . tell you the plain truth : you so booby the 
man, he 's not safe to speak ! These bullyings of a man do 
no good. 

Lady B. You '11 perhaps see, — one day. 

Kate. They only harden him ; or drive him, like little boys, 
into mischief from wishing to avoid the appearance of it. 

Lady B. Don't you be alarmed ; I could give your wisdom a 
settler, my babe; and as you are so very wise and philosophical, 
I will. In the meantime, such is my opinion of your pretty Mr 
Hairbrain, that I have desired that he may never again present 
himself in this house, unless he wishes to be shewn to the door by 
the servants ! 

Kate. I thought it would be some joke of his. 

Lady B. Did you ? see if that be a joke, at your leisure. ( Giv- 
ing Hairbraifi's letter.) But now for your father. If I have 
been wrong, it is my duty to find him as soon as I can, and make 
reparation : that 's one view of the subject. If he is right, — for 
once in his life, — he may make his own use of it ; for he has n't 
my forgiving temper, 

Kate. (Aside.) Oh ! Gemini ! 

Lady B. What 's that you say ? 

Kate. I was thinking of this letter ; what can it be ? 

Lady B. Oh ! — The letter 's a very distinct letter, and a 
very comfortable one, for it ends your flirtation with the-Repro- 
bate at once ; unless, indeed, like most young women now, you 
should be disposed to put up with any thing. 

Kate. And is that a way to treat one's feelings, mother? 

Lady B. Feelings ! — Is the tawpy wild ? If you ever pre- 
sume to speak to me about feelings, 

Kate. Had you no feelings yourself, mother ? 

Lady B. None ! — but what were proper; and if your father 
had presumed 

Kate. Presumed ! I have heard he presumed upon any thing. 

Ljady B. In the same circumstances, you numskull ! 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 77 

Kate. How do you mean ? 

Lady B. Has Harry Hairbrain a halfpenny ? comparatively ? 
The poor son of the poor Earl of Crackit ! Is it for such penny- 
less fellows as he to forget themselves? Certainly not! But 
go ! get your cloak and walking-shoes, and prepare to accompany 
me ; for after all that 's past and gone, I would n't be too much 
surprised, if your dear hard-headed father were enjoying himself 
with the best of them, and leaving his poor wife, to sup sorrow by 
herself. If he is, 

Kate. At him again, mother ! 

Lady B. Ay, — at him ! and if we were to be at them every 
hour of our life, they would still have enough of the old Adam. — 

Kate. Mother, mother ! that's a most unfortunate allusion. 

Lady B. I don't believe it ! I don't believe it ! — I believe it 
was he that did the mischief after all, and persuaded the poor 
woman to say nothing about it. [Exit. 

Kate. Well, — certainly, — if you can persuade yourself of 
that. — But Harry, Harry ! if you have been playing the fool, 
I '11 never forgive myself for thinking better of you in spite of 
every body. [Exit. 

Phil. (Coming in, and thrusting his hands to the very bottom 
of his pocket.) Was there ever such venom ? Fire would not 
burn it out of some people ! They '11 find him out now, if they 
can ; and if they ketch him the least in sperrits, they '11 come 
the exciseman over him. By the powers ! the very character of 
the male sect is in it ! — What ! two women circumvint a man, — 
an' he having a male person to protect him at the same time ! — 
That would be a bit of a disgrace at least. I'll make him a judge 
of women any how ! I '11 put him up to them, — as Paddy was 
to the mare. I 've found out where my Lordship is, which they 
han 't ; and if I don't give them the turn some how or other 

Lady B. (From without.) What are you about there, Phil ? 

Phil. I 'm considering how I should do yer Ladyship ! 

Lady B. Come here, and I '11 tell you ; instantly ! 

Phil. Well, that 's meaning to be civil, — any way. [Exit, 



78 OLDEN TIMES, OR 



Scene II. — Winter's Tavern. 



Hairbrain entering to Trockie. 

Hairb. Well, my ambassador ! how are we ? 

Trockie. Did ye think I was to bungle the bizziness ? But I 
had naething in my power. She swallowed yer lees, like new 
milk ; ca'd ye a thoosan' villains ! 

Hairb. Excellent ! — excellent ! 

Trockie. Weel, — ye ken yer ain bizziness best ; but in your 
particular sitiation wi' the young lady, — sic a letter as ye ha'e 
written, wid ha' been the last thing that wad ha* occurred to me. 

Hairb. Were you ever in love, Trockie ? 

Trockie. Hoot! (Out.) 

Hairb. No, — but I ask you the question. 

Trockie. But I 'm do' obleeged to answer ye. 

Hairb. It certainly is very odd to conceive how some people 
could be in love ; or what preteuce they use, for lotting one bad- 
looking article with a worse. However ! if you have any idea of 
what I mean, — you Ml know what I am suffering for this poor 
family. 

Trockie. Ay ! we should aye have sympathy wi' the poor. 

Hairb. I love Katie; for Katie is a girl often thousand. 

Trockie. I wis' ye may get it. 

Hairb. Get what ? 

Trockie. The ten thoosand. 

Hairb. I shall lose patience with you. I say Katie is an ex- 
cellent young woman ! 

Trockie. I dinna denv it. 

j 

Hairb. And very likely to be lost, if she is not looked after. 

Trockie. That may read twa ways tee ; an' mak' yer ain o 't. 

Hairb. Precisely. Now listen to me. It is now four years 
since I have made up my mind, that I ought not to hesitate to 
receive ten thousand pounds of the proper monies of this man, 
even tho' burdened with the maintenance of one of his family; 
yet I question if he is sensible of his mercies ! But you know 
the man. 

Trockie. Oe'r weel ; — never would sell him a pictur' worth 
five pound, without telling him five hunder lees. 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 79 

Hairb. Very well. We must bring the matter to a point 
sometime ; so, mark me, I have determined to do it to-night ! 

Trockie. Vera weel. 

Hairb. Now, this Lady forgot her resentment against her Lord 
at once, you say, when she found she could transfer it to me ? 

Trockie. That did she. 

Hairb. Perhaps wished you to tell him as much ? 

Trockie. Ga'e me the strickest injunctions to bring him in- 
stantly hame. 

Hairb. And you promised ? 

Trockie. Solemnly. 

Hairb. But he doesn 't go. You could not see him, — you 
understand ? — neither can you, without a breach of all rule. 

Trockie. It might be a good few pounds out of my way. 

Hairb. Trockie ! Your soul is made up of clipped sixpences. 
But state your damage, and you shall cheat me to that extent in 
our very first transaction. 

Trockie. My dear frien' 

Hairb. Don 't add hypocrisy to your other virtues ! You 
shall ; and I know you insist on it. Now, if I change my condi- 
tion, must I not change my residence ? and have I ever changed 
my residence without benefit of carver and picture-dealer ? 

Trockie. Say nae mair aboot it. I'm deaf, dumb, and sense- 
less, if ye will ha'e it sae. 

Hairb. I insist upon it. \JExeunt. 



Scene III. — Hall of the Tavern. 

A sedan chair standing. 

Lord Birkie. (Following a servant.) Wha wants me? Wha 
wants me? wha is 't ? no' yersel, lass? (Patting her shoulder.) 
Yer 'e a gude-lookin' quean ! 

Maid. Get away. 

Birkie. What for, woman ? what for ? 

Maid. Have ye no' a wife o' yer ain ? 

Birkie. Pooh ! can I carry her about on my back ? 

Girl. Nae occasion, — I 'm thinkin' she 's waiting for ye, in 
that chair there. [Exit Maid. 



80 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

Lord B. My wife in that chair ! — Gude forbid ! — What could 
ha'e brought her in that chair? (A tap from the window of the 
chair summons him in that direction, and he proceeds towards it ; 
and the moment he reaches the chair, and the curtain is withdrawn 
shewing a female head-dress. Lady B. and Kate enter.) 

Lady B. So, my Lord ! 

Lord B. Eh ! 

Lady B. I find you still full of business. 

Lord B. Bizness ! Glide's mercy ! whare am I noo ? a — 
a — thought it was you, that was in the chair. 

Lady B. And you mistook the young woman for me also, — 
doubtless ? 

Kate. Papy ! papy ! 

Lord B. Weel, weel ! there can be nae mistak' noo ; — come 
awa' in, and lat me present ye. 

Lady B. You forget the lady in the chair. 

Lord B. I ken naething aboot her ! It can be nae lady 
for me. 

Lady B. Perhaps so, but you came to see her. 

Ijord B. I didna ken wha I cam' to see, nor is it o' the least 
consequence, noo that I ha'e seen you ; an' I maunna forget to 
thank ye for it. 

Lady B. I daresay. But if you don't wish to see the lady, I 
do ; and if she had been any proper character, she would at once 
have stept out. 

Lord B. Hoo could she? — Is she no' fastened in? — An' 
besides, it maun be as gude as a play till 'er, to hear us fechtin' ! 
Come awa in. 

Lady B. I insist upon seeing her, or I '11 raise the house ! — 

The Guard ! — The Oh ! you old ruffian ! You old 

ruffian ! Will there never be an end of your sin and misery ? 

Lord B. I can answer for my meeseries, at ony rate ! 

Lady B. They are not a tithe of what you deserve. 

Lord B. Tithe ! Ha, ha ! If a y tithes were as weel paid, it 
would be a warm kirk ! 

Lady B. You begin to be impudent, do you, and to brazen 
the matter ? Landlord ! — 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 81 

Enter Will trotting. 

Winter. What 's this ? What 's this ? What 's a* this ? 

Lady B. Is this a decent house, sir ? 

Winter. Are ye a decent woman, to ask sic a question ? 

Lady B. Whom have ye in that chair ? 

Winter. What ken I aboot the chair ? 

Lady B. (Slapping him.) Look then ! 

Winter. Fat the deevil ! D'ye ken nae better than to strik' a 
man in his ain house ? His dwellirf house ? Gad, that 's past 
law-burrows ! That 's hame-sucken, and we man ha'eye banisht ! 

Lord B. Say nae mair, Will ! It 's her Ladyship. 

Winter. Her Ladyship ? Her Randy ship ! — Faith, I wou'd 
pit another ring in her nose ! 

Lord B. A '11 sowther it, Will ! — Come in, my dear — They '11 
wonder what 's keepin' me. 

Lady B. (Sitting down with violence.) If I go from this spot, 
till that chair is opened, I must go in pieces ! 

Lord B. Tell Harry Hairbrain to come here, Will ! Tell 
him to come the noo, — for I 'm half dementit. 

Winter. I '11 tell him, my Lord, — But — (Looking at her 
Ladyship.) 

Lord B. Aneugh, Will ! — anengh : I awe ye a magnum o' 
something or other; but gang awa' the noo. (Exit Winter. — To 
himself.) We man jeuk an* let the jaw pass, — an' I wish it were 
as easy in my case as in yours. 

Enter Hairbrain. 

Hairb. Ah ! how are ye, ladies ! This is a pleasure we didn 't 
expect. (Approaching and offering to shake hands, — they both 
turn away.) 

Lord B. Say as little about that as ye like, Harry. 

Hairb. I beg pardon ! — What has happened ? 

Lord B. 'Od, Harry, I dinna ken weel what has happened ; 
I maun hae risen wrang end foremost the day ; for I 'm nae 
sooner out of ae hobble, than I 'm in till anither. It seems there 's 
some daft jaud or ither in that chair, wishin' to see me. I ken 
naething about ony ane that should wish to see me, but my Lady 
maun ha'e her out. See if it 's anither o' your half-hands. 

F 



82 OLDEN TIMES, OK 

(Hairbrain tries to ascertain the party, — but the curtains 
are held, and his finger wrenched.} 
Lord B. Wha is 't ? 

Lady B. ( To Hairbrain.) You 'd better consider what you 
ought to say. 

Hairb. I have this to say, — that if she pays all her debts in 
that way, she owes me nothing. I don 't know that I ever had 
my fingers better squeezed. 

Lady B. That 's a hint that you are not the person wanted. 
But it won't do : — She must come forth, — Ay ! — come forth, 
— and before impartial witnesses ! 

Phil. {From the chair.) Clear away there f open the box, 
will ye, with a vengeance! (Starts out disguised as a woman.) 
I can no longer bear to hear a dacent boy tathered and bothered 
to pieces, — and put out of a pig's likeness, — and for nothing 
at all at all ! — I '11 defind him ! 

Kate. In the name of goodness, Phil ! 

Phil. Yes; but if I were fifty Phils, I'll never fill that chair 
again. 

Kate. And what brought you in it ? 

Phil. Two chairmen, the vagabones ! But they stopt snuffin' 
at every street's end ; — they were tosticated. 

Kate. But why did they bring you ? 

Phil. Because I ordered them. 

Kate. Phil, be plain ; or are you mad, or drunk ? 

Phil. Drunk is it ? an' not even got my dinner ? I tell you 
what it is : — If there 's any more quarrelling, leading, as this has 
done, to fasting, I must steal to prevent murder. The two ends 
of my waistcoat are coming together. 

Lord B. Ye daft rascal ! what brought ye in that chair ? 

Phil. An' you too, my Lordship ? You ? 

Lord B, Every deevil of us, sir ! Speak out. 

Phil. Well! that's not givin' yourselves a high character, 
any how. 

Kate. Tell the truth, Phil, and tell it quickly, and I '11 give 
you a real thirteener. 

Phil. Oh ! my young Ladyship ! Do you think I want any 
thing to make me do your bidding ? an' I ever an ? always at your 
feet like a dog? 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 83 

Lord B. Ye villain ! speak to the purpose, or I '11 throttle ye ! 

Phil. I wish you woud be as 'cute with my Ladyship ! 

Kate. Phil, Phil ! 

Phil. Oh, lave him to me, jewel ! I '11 give him a taste of the 
truth, any how ; an' may be her Ladyship won 't be the worse 
either. They have behaved prettily, both of them, this day. 
But, however, — since you are all so cross as I seen you are, and 
that is, as two sticks, I '11 tell the truth, — and this is it : — You 
know there was a noise this morning? — You know it? — Very 
well ! I understand it was found out to be all for no cause : — 
That '11 happen in any dacent family. But the moment this 
'ruction was over, an' before my Lordship knew that it was over, 
didn 't I hear her Ladyship, an' my young Ladyship, planning 
an' plotting another? Said they, — (to one another, like, only 
I happened to be about upon duty;) — said they — I wouldn't 
be surprised, if he, — meaning my Lord, to be sure, — is enjoying 
himself after all, as if nothin' had happened: — an' after a deal to 
that purpose, they called for their clogs. An' ye '11 come Paddy over 
the master ? said I ; an' abuse an' bother him still farther ? said 
I ; when he has had enough already, as you know, and I know, — 
particularly if it was all for nothing. Faith ! but you shan 't, 
said I : The character of the male sect is in it, said I ; — them 
wor my words. 

Hairb. To whom ? 

Phil. To myself, as I told you. Two women circumvint a man ! 
said I ; you know yourself, Counsellor, that would be untholer- 
able ! 

Hairb. Go on. 

Phil. You own it ? well ! knowing his Lordship would pay- 
more attintion to the fair sect, than to a poor boy, 

Lady B. Your very servant knows you, you see. 

Phil. To be sure ; know him to be a gentleman all out ; and, 
consequently, — but if ladies won 't allow that their sect shoud be 
respected, why shoud / insist upon it ? Besides, I wanted to 
come unknownst. But, as I told you, the vagabones stopt every 
minnet ; I was once within an ace of coming out to assist in 
carrying myself ! I 'd done it but for the does ! and guess if I 
wasn 't angry, and with cause too, when I seen your Ladyship 
must circumvint me, in place of me circumvinting you ! 



84 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

Lady B. And is that the truth, sir ? 

Phil. A full, true, and particular account, my Lady, as I'm a 
Christian man. 

Kate. I think that is rather doubtful at present. 

Phil. Oh, your young Ladyship ! don't you see my brit • 

(Preparing to lift his dress.) 

Lord B. Gae hame, ye mad rascal, or you 'H shame us a' ; or 
pluck aff thae duds, an' be usefu' whare ye are. 'Od, Harry, I 
believe the warld's gane gyte ! (Gone mad.) 

Hairh. Upon my word, I think your Lordship has cause to 
say so. 

Lady B. It 's all a mystery to me. Is James Trockie here ? 

Hairb. He is, my Lady. 

Lady B. Call him. (Exit Hairhrain.) If he had done his 
duty, this last exposure would have been spared ; for I requested 
him to tell your Lordship that all was explained, and that I 
wished to see you home. 

Lord B. Ye 're a gude lassie I 

Enter Trockie, a little elevated. His hand in his breast, ruffles 
displayed, and looking quite great. 

Lord B. Ye ken this Lady, sir ? 

Trockie. Oh ay ! 

Lord B. I suppose I needna say mair to 'mind ye that ye 're a 
villain ? 

Trockie. A deal mair, my Lord ; I deny the impitation 
whollily ! 

Lady B. Did you make very great exertions to find out my 
Lord, and to deliver to him my message, as you promised ? 

Trockie. As I have a vera great respeck for my Lord, and 
also, on the whole, am sorry for your Ladyship, I wad rather no' 
answer ony questions. 

Lord B. Mair mystery, Harry ! What mare's nest are we 
comin' on noo ? 

Hairb. My Lord, I am as unable to make up my mind to any 
thing — as your Lordship. 

Lard B. Did ye promise ony thing till her Ladyship that ye 
havena performed ? 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 85 

Trockie. I promised to bring your Lordship word that ye were 
wantit at hame, and that a' that had passed was forgiven. 

Lord B. Weel, sir, an' wasna that vera important to me ? 

Trockie, It was ; but I fund afterwards, that I required time to 
deliberat'. 

Lord B. About what ? 

Trockie. I 'm no* sure that I am just free to speak. Her 
Ladyship will understand me, when I mention the name of Sir 
Tamas Willgeese; an' particularly, when I add, that I am 
myself a married man I 

Lord B. Sir Tamas Willgeese! — Married man! — Ye 're a 
married fule, I believe. 

Trockie. I have aye ruled my wife at least, when I was present, 
and I have never heard that she couldna rule herself when I was 
absent \ 

Lord B. Weel, sir, an' what is that to the purpose ? 

Trockie. Every thing, my Lord, if ye 're a man of wirtie an' 
honor i And if you press me I will shew it you. 

Lord B. I insist upon it, sir. 

Trockie. Vera weel. A' the warld kens that ye canna rule 
yer wife when ye are present. 

Lord B. Maybe it 's as weel that she rules me. What next? 

Trockie. Weel, sin' ye maun ha'e it, an' maun ha'e it, I was 
given to understand, that she hadna weel got rid o' yer Lordship, 
when Sir Tamas Willgeese was at her feet ! 
- Lord B. Oh ho ! It was there that Tammie was ] 

Lady B. I shall faint ! 

Trockie. That 's the story, my Leddy ; an* the best bowe* o' 
meal wadna stap their mouths that are tellin' it. 

Lady B. He was there for his sins, ye booby ! 

Trockie. That I ken naething about, but yer Leddyship can 
speak to the public upon the subject. 

Lady B. Harry Hairbrain, after your profligate letter of this 
morning 

Lord B. Did ye write her, Harry ? 

Hairb. I did, my Lord, explaining every thing. 

Lord B. That was a gude laddie. 'Od, ye maun forgie Harry 
the tae thing, in consideration o' the tither, my dear. 

* Bowe — boll of meal. 



86 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

Lady B. Who could think of such a thing at present ? After 
that letter, I did not intend to have spoken to him or seen him. 

Lord B. It was an accident, my dear ! 

Lady B. His profligacy ? 

Lord B. No ; the comin' out, my Lady. 

Lady B. Ay, that 's all you think of; and I daresay you make 
a pair. Well, after that letter, I neither intended to have spoken 
to him nor seen him. But that man there 

Trockie. Tak' care, my Leddy ! I deny the ackisation ! 

Lady B. Call for Sir Thomas Wildgoose. 

Lord B. No, my dear ; we '11 have nae story but your ain. 
What is it ? 

Lady B. Very soon after you left the house, in a state that I 
can never think of without remorse — 

Lord B. Think nae mair abootit; this pays it a'. {Patting 
her hand.) 

Lady B. You are too good. Well, soon after that, Sir Thomas 
called: I had resolved to see no one, but hoping he might be 
from yourself, I saw him. 

Lord B. Ye was aye a gude lassie, Weel ? 

Lady B. He did not come from you ; it was to inquire after 
his own Lady ; and, irritated at the moment, at what I thought 
had happened to myself, and recollecting his dreadful negligence 
as a husband, and contrasting it with his then apparent purposes, 
which seemed to be to ruin the person he had already rendered 
miserable, I confess I spoke my mind to him; and so strongly, 
that he knelt to entreat me not to think so harshly of him, and, 
if I recollect rightly, promised better behaviour. 

Lord B. Vera weel, my dear. 

Trockie* Did he kiss your Ladyship's hand ? 

Lord B. Haud yer tongue, Trockie, ye ken naething about it. 

Lady B. Suppose he had ? 

Trockie. I only wished to observe, that yer Leddyship didna 
mention thatfack ! 

Lord B. And if she didna? 

Trockie. Oh ! if yer Lordship is pleased, am pleased. 

Lord B. Ye 're a gommeril ! 

Lady B. At that moment that looby opened the door, and 
company came in. 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 87 

Phil. My Ladyship 

Lord B. Weesht, sirrah ! Weel, my dear, was this a' ? 

Lady B. All, my Lord, I declare. 

Lord B. And I commend ye for it. 

Lady B. But to find myself accused 

Lord B. Ay ! ye see how unpleasant it is, whan ane 's inno- 
cent ! 

Lady B. I do indeed ; and I am sorry, in particular, for 
having exposed you in this house. 

Lord B. Hoot, ye bit monkey ! Gae wa', gae wa' ! 

Lady B. You owe it all to Mr Hairbrain ; who, I think, 
should sink into the earth, considering in what presence he 
stands. 

Lord B. I hinna had time to speak to Harry ; but I daresay 
he 's sorry, and in that case we maun forget and forgie. 'Od, I 
could maistly forgie ony thing for the pleasure o' this meeting. 
Come in, come in, and say nae mair about it. 

Lady B. ( To Trockie.) As for you, sir, you have seen the 
inside of my house Jar the last time ! 

Lord B. Ye was very injudicious, James. 

Trockie. If every body paid for errors in jeedgement ! 

Lord B. Weel, sir ! 

Trockie. Oh ! if the kep doesna fit, yer Lordship needna pit 
it on. 

Lord B. I tell you again, ye 're a gommeril ! (Exit leading 
Lady B. and patting her hand.) 

Trockie. I canna say ye 're no' a Judge ; but I can say this — 
Maist folks are gommerils in something. 

Hairb. Go away, Trockie. You 've put your foot in it at last. 

Trockie. Avo'd ye, Sathan ! 

Hairb. Not a word, but go ! — Go ! [Exit Trockie. 

(Hairb. offers his arm to Kate, but is refused.) 

Kate. You have given a very great deal of trouble, Mr Hair- 
brain, and from a very unpardonable cause. 

Hairb. Spare me but for an hour, and I will explain every 
thing. 

Kate. Can you explain away your letter ? 

Hairb. Decidedly ; and if you have any interest in what we 
have sometimes talked about * 



88 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

Kate. I can have none, until that letter is explained — none. 

Hairb. Then I declare most solemnly, my sole interest in the 
person is professional. 

Kate. You can shew this ? 

Hairb. To your entire satisfaction, or I claim nothing. 

Kate. Do not deceive me. You see the misery that a bad 
understanding between my poor father and mother leads to. 

Hairb. Upon my honor, my dearest Catherine, there is no 
need for misunderstanding in this, as you yourself shall be 
satisfied. I only request, that should it by any chance be ex- 
plained in public, you will make no remark. 

Kate. I am willing to be persuaded to rely on your assurances, 
but you cannot know how much I have been agitated. 

Hairb. I requested my Lady to say nothing till I saw her. 

Kate. But she considered it no subject for concealment, and 
properly. 

Hairb. I have wished that this night should end all our mise- 
ries ; cure your mother of her suspicions — give your father a 
new friend — me another and a dearer — and you a husband ! 

Kate. A very doubtful end to misery. [Exeunt. 

Phil. (Coming forward.) I'll soon be Saycretary ov State! 
for I have had nothin' but saycrets this day, and without seeking 
them ; and with reverence to the young masther and mistress — 
Well I never ! — It was this they wor always at, when leaning 
over the pailings and p unending to admire the purty pigs ! — 
Making the very dumb animals bear false witness ; an* me — 
worse than the donkey of the fields ! I '11 — I '11 turn infurmer ! 
It goes again' my conscience to be made an ass on, all for 
nothin' ! 

Hairb. ( Gently re-entering.) You rogue in your heart ! take 
that. ( Throwing him money.) \_Exit. 

Phil. Oh, thunder an' turf, and cetera, and cetera ! This '11 
never do at all ! this is treating me like a criminal ! — Your Riv- 

verence, I never intended to He 's gone ! — and I, — I am 

no longer a gentleman ! — Perhaps he 's only trying me. (Exa- 
mines the purse.) It's money ! what shall I do with it ? I must 
take care of it, any how. Perhaps he didn 't count it, and I 
may take a few — compensations — and return it as if I didn 't 
look at it either. That wouldn 't be the clean potatoe neither. 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 89 

It 's a very pleasant thing for a poor man to have ; — and I dare 
say he doesn 't mind it one way or t'other ? (Puts it suddenly up.) 
Pity my weakness, yer Reverence ! It 's the inherent depravity ! 
I feel I could be reconciled to a purse of almost any size, and 
marry a purty and accomplished woman ! — Oh, what sinful we 
all are if the truth were known ! as his Rivverence says to the 
young ladies. [Exit. 



ACT V. 

Parlour Winter's Tavern as before, 

Trockie. (Entering in great tribulation.) To be obleeged to 
leave a company that I like, an' drink that I ha'epaid for ! Eh, 
laddie! (Calling.) 

Phil. (Entering.) Your Reverence ? 

Trockie. Bring me my hat ; ye '11 find it i' the corner by 
itsel : an' I say ! if ye should meet ony body askin' for me, say 
I J m gone. 

Phil. I will. {Exit Phil. 

Puggie. ( Without.) Any gentleman in that apartment ? 

Phil. (Also without.) No; only Misthur Truckie, and he says 
he 's gone. 

Trockie. The blunderin' villain ! That fallow was born to put 
leein' out o' fashion. I maun face them ! But I 'm sure I 'm 
like ane o' the children of Iseraul — 

Puggie, Whims, and Gimcrack enter, and they all get round 
Trockie and take him by the buttons. 

Puggie. Gone — eh ? 
Trockie. No ; only going ; an' desired that if a stranger I 

expected should ca' 

Puggie. Oh ! that was it ? Now, are n't you a fine fellow ? 
Whims. An astonishingly fine fellow ? 

Sir Jas. You even down deceiver ! You common cheat you ! 
Trockie. My Lords ! 



90 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

Puggie. Oh ! you 're quite astonished are you ? You have no 
idea that your Professor has been found to be an imposition ? 

Trockie. My Professor an imposition ? 

Puggie. Downright ! Now I tell you what, James — I tell 
you what — I intended very speedily to have made your fortune. 

Trockie. I hope naething will happen to interrupt your Lord- 
ship's generous intentions. 

Puggie. It has happened. 

Whims. Undoubtedly. 

Sir Jas. It 's as plain as a pike-staff. 

Puggie. Honesty is the best policy, James ! I intended in 
one week, from this date, to have made your fortune. I intended 
to have allowed you, sir, in the crowdedest time of the day, to 
walk from one end of Prince's Street to the other upon my arm ! 

Sir Jas. An' / was till ha'e accompanied him ! 

Puggie. Yes ! But this Professor of yours. — Why, now 
when I think of it, the man has barber written in every linea- 
ment ! 

Trockie. My Lord, it's no' every man of genius that, like 
your Lordship, has the stamp of intellect in his countenance ; 
ye '11 alloo me to say that. 

Puggie. Why, certainly — 

Sir Jas. My Lord, it 's just the joog-job over again ! — just ! 
An' Trockie, ye villain ! ye dinna ken a' the consequences of that 
job, or ye would be horrified ! Ye had almost made my Lady 
Gimcrack an' me part ! 

Puggie. Horrible ! We never heard of that. Why that had 
been as bad as — as an earthquake. 

Sir Jas. An earthquake would ha' been over in a minute, but 
this might ha' made me miserable for life ! 

Puggie. Dreadful ! Now what happened ? Tell us, Jim, 
tell us. 

Sir Jas. She went down to Auld Kettle at a minute's warning, 
or rather without ony warning, bag and baggage! 

Puggie. Possible ? 

Sir Jas. Fack ! when I cam' hame, intending to be in a 
passion for a week, (for fifty pounds is fifty pounds,) I found her 
chair empty! Oh ho! said I, ye are hiding, are ye? — See 
wha'll seek ye? But at last I felt uneasy, an' rang for dinner, 



•teamM ,-,• 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 91 

and there had been nane ordered ! Where 's my Lady ? said I, 
Don't know, sir, said they ; thought she dined out, as she has 
been out for some time. This looked serious. 
Puggie. The want of dinner ? 

Sir Jas. No ; the absence of my Lady. D' ye ken I felt all 
of a sudden as if she was dead, and the house desolate ! And 
whatever people may say, gentlemen, that's ony thing but a 
pleasant feeling. I would ha' gi'en twa fifties that I had said 
naething, or to ha'e made things as they were. I gaed out an* 
dined wi' a friend — still nae return ; — to bed — nae sleep ! — 
an' I never thought ony night sae lang before. I determined to 
become an altered man : — an' before the thing was sortit, I had 
not only to mak' her a thoosand apologies, though it was she 
that was in the wrang — 

Puggie. Ladies are never in the wrong. 

Sir Jas. But I had to enclose her a horse — 
Puggie. Wonderful ! 

Sir Jas. I mean an order for the price ; an' an empty tea- 
chest full of tea an' sugar, gown-pieces, an' a' other kinds o' 
confectionaries, before she would write me a word ; an' then she 
only wrett to tell me that I should send her nae mair nonsense ! Ye 
should be horrified, sir, at the consequences of your nefariousness ! 
And, my Lord Whims, did he not cheat your Lordship out of 
near twa hunder years in the age of a clock, by turning the date 
upside down, and makin' it 1491 when it was only sixteen hun- 
der seventy-one ? 

Trockie. That transaction was explained and sattled, Sir 
James. 

Sir Jas. As my Cowgate Raphael was settled, by being per- 
fectly satisfied it was na worth a doit. 

Trockie. Sir James, I have explained that transation till I 'm 
sick ; an' though I have at this moment a lot of china that has 
cost me many pounds, and that nobody could value but yoursel — 

Sir Jas. Whare is 't ? 

Trockie. But ye ha'e nae generosity — 

Sir Jas. That 's another of your fabrications. 

Whims. Do you intend ever to make up my horological series? 

Trockie. Do I intend to live ? 

Sir Jas. Nae doubt you do, and at the expense of honest men. 



92 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

Puggie. We begin to lose faith in you, Trockie. 

Trockie. My valuable frien' ! 

Sir J as. You have said the truth there — you mak* us valu- 
able. 

Puggie. This job of the Professor is the devil ! You have 
medelled in me, with a reputation that is European. 

Trockie. But my excellent Lords, and my esteemed gentle- 
men ! is there to be a' this strife between us, because it suits Mr 
William Waggery to tak' a bet upon the subject? — 

Puggie. Mr William Waggery ? Who is he ? 

Trockie. That 's easier asked than answered ; and I hope 
you '11 all remember, that I say nothing upon the subject. I 
would na, as my friend Mr Hairbrain says, write a hicjacet o'er 
a lawyer's grave, for fear of an action for sayin' here he lies ! 

Puggie. But who is he ? 

Trockie. Oh ! he 's at the bar noo, an' of course a gentleman 
by profession. 

Puggie. But he is not a gentleman ? 

Trockie. There comes my diffeeculty again. 

Puggie. And does he presume to interfere with the amuse- 
ments of — of persons of rank? There must be an end to that, 
in all events. 

Whims. Certainly. 

Sir Jas. That 's very clear — eh ? Decidedly — I think ? 

Whims. Decidedly. 

Puggie. Then I tell you what, sir, you must leave us instantly, 
and say nothing of this conversation. 

Whims. Nothing. 

Puggie. If there is any thing wrong, we alone must put it 
right. D'ye hear? 

Trockie. So like your Lordship's good sense and dignity, and 
every thing that may become a nobleman. 

Puggie. If that fellow could dream that he might in any way 
influence me, I would shoot myself. 

Trockie. Far sooner, my Lord ! [Exit Trockie. 

Puggie. Of course I 'm bit ? 

Whims. Dead, I think, as ever / was. 

Sir James. Or /; an' that's as dead as mutton, and a bunder 
times. 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. ( J3 

Puggie. It 's the first time with me* 

Whims. That you know of. 

Puggie. Well ! when any thing disagreeable, and undeniable 
happens, nothing like determinedly refusing to see it one's self. It 
deprives malice of the sweetest part of its meal. And, now, what 
think you of Belfry's appearance as Chancellor of the Exchequer ? 

Whims. Capital ! I wonder the fellow could hold his face. 

Puggie. I wonder that of the order generally. Which of his 
proposals did you like best, Sir James ? 

Sir Jas. Duelling wi' government pistols, duly stamped and 
bearing a duty according to rank, or the practice to be accounted 
murder. 

Whims. I think a tax on the publication was a good addition. 

Puggie. Well, I think the idea of noblemen and gentlemen 
being obliged to wear particular habits, so as, like Soldiers and 
Clergymen, to be easily identified in case of delinquency, and the 
stuff to bear a tax, — a very capital one. 

Sir Jas. Was na it a gude ane to compel ladies affecting the 
— -the imperials, to wear them of a particular colour, duly taxed ? 

Whims. Or scandal-mongers to wear badges, bearing a tax 2 
and not transferable, nor to descend to heirs ? 

Puggie. I 'm sure you would vote for a tax on indifference in 
husbands, Sir James ? 

Sir Jas. Did he propose that ? The rusty old — ultra-nuptiary ! 
Let us hear it. 

Puggie. (Mimicking a very solemn and pompous style.) " Indif- 
ference in husbands should bear a high tax." — " That 's a gude 
ane, Andrew!" quoth my Lord Birkie. — " Your Lordship is 
fined for forgetting the forms of Parliament," retorted Andrew ; 
another excellent source of revenue, say I. " The tax on indif- 
ference in husbands to be fixed, like minister's stipends, by the 
fiars of the year ; and utter dereliction of duty to be considered 
a luxury of the highest kind, and paid for accordingly. Taking 
the husbands of Great Britain and Ireland at only six millions, 
and holding one million only bad, and three indifferent, which is 
considered within the mark ; and fixing indifference at a dog-tax, 
and deeper delinquencies at a game-licence, the proceeds of this 
tax might be from ten to twelve millions !" — Somebody proposed 
a tax on smoking, — the tax to be kid on the smoke, — " I mean 



94 OLDEN TIMES, OK 

to end in that" said Andrew, which I thought witty. In the 
meantime he proceeded to the taxing of whiskers and im- 
perials, except so far as belonging to the army or navy, and con- 
sequently connected with the defence of the state. But I hear 
them shouting : — Let us in. [Exeunt. 



Scene II. — Dining-room in Winter's Tavern. 

Company set as after dinner ; Hairbrain as king, but with wine 
before him ; Lady W. as queen, 

Hairb. Well \ the pleasantest day must have an end, and so 
must our command. We are about to abdicate ; but before do- 
ing so, as we cannot otherwise reward our friends, we must thank 
them. We thank also our opponents, being satisfied that in 
many circumstances, the wisdom of our opponents is as useful as 
that of our friends ; and no gentleman should be supposed capable 
of offering any other than his best opinion. (Hear, hear, hear !) 
Therefore, — " I drink to the general health of the full table, and 
all good things to all ! " ( They drink.) 

Hairb. Now call our minstrel ! Come, dear drukken Jamie ! 
Give us a song. Be it o' the olden time ; 
As, " Toddlin Hame," " A Sixpence under Thumb," 
Or, " When we fell, we aye gat up again." 
Ay ! something fit to make an old man weep, — 
O'er recollected, long departed joys ! 

Jemmy, (Snapping his fingers,) — 

Come ! pop the bottle, Birkie said, 
For since a' plays maun still be play'd, 
What need puir mortals fash their head, 
Wi' canting o' decorum ? 

Lord B, Stop, stop, Jemmy ! That '11 no do noo. 

\A bottle is popped. 

Jemmy, Ah ! that 's a gude ane ! Lat 's hae a drink o 't. (He 

drinks, then sings.) 

Am. — The Cogie. 

Our fathers, when the day was done, 

And nights were wet and bogie, 
They barr'd the door on ilka win', 

And had their cracks and cogie. 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 95 

And lang the custom has been ours, 

Frae Berwick to Stra'bogie ; 
Till ilka weal and wae's resource, 

Is fancied in the cogie. 

It 's no' to flee frae needfu' thought, 

Nor frae a wife that 's roguie ;* 
It's no' to slockeu greedfu' drought, 

That we may seek the cogie. 
It's just to meet the friends we lo'e, 

An' get a wee bit Y0guie,-f- 
To warm the heart, and wet the raou', 

That we may seek the cogie, 

When thus we sit, and tell auld tales, 

Or muse out- o'er the cogie, 
How mony a gentle thought prevails, 

That well may raise the cogie. 
The friends that we may see nae mair, 

The early haunted bogie ; J 
Perhaps the lass that ance was dear, 

May a' rise o'er the cogie. 

Then here 's to ilka social soul 

Wha kens to use the cogie ; 
May he ne'er want to fill the bowl, 

Nor aught that maks us voguie. 
An' let it run frae sire to son, 

The modest social cogie ; 
For so our fathers' wills had run. 

Had they bequeathed the cogie. 

Crowd. A very good song, very well sung, &c. 

Lord B. Where's Jemmie Daidlie the night? I miss him. 
What excuse can he ha'e for no' bein' here ? 

Crowd. His wife 's dead. 

Lord B. A vera good excuse ! a wis' we had a' the same ! 

Lady B. (Entering, followed by Kate, fyc.) Robbie, Robbie ! 
( They ruff, and try to make the thing pass off.) 

Lord B. Ye hoolit ! are ye there ? did ye catch the bit joke I 
was makkin' ? 

* Troublesome. t Elevated. 

X Hazel nuts grow in boggy places, and consequently such places are constant 
haunts with school-bovs. 



96 QLDEN TIMES, OR 

Lady B. It was no joke, Robbie ! and I am sorry to think it ; 
but the time may come when you '11 feel otherwise. 

Lord B. It was na a very good subject for a joke ; but " the 
big serjeant," ye ken ! She was na a nice little body like you. 
My wife and dochter, ladies and gentlemen ! an* I 'm glad to 
see them here. I fine mysel' a magnum o' claret on the ye-went. 
Bring it in, Will, an' see that it be gude. Lady Wildguse, my 
dear! She's been playin' the queen here the night; an' dune 
it sae weel, that if king Tammie were to abdicate the morn, he 
wad na be lang wan tin' a successor. I think we should drink 
her health. 

Hairb. First, — The ladies who have honoured us with their 
company this night; the last not least. ( They drink.) 

Hairb. Our queen ! in a special bumper ; and may she reign 
long and happily, in the hearts of the free and loyal ! — 

For 'tis not the mere circumstance of state, 

The sceptre, sword, or crown imperial, 

Nor all that waits on the mere fact of power, 

Nor birth, nor beauty, tho' they all are prized j 

But that same sweetness, prudent dignity, 

And sense combined with woman's gentleness, 

That in a cottage had made her beloved, 

And even fear'd, in fearing to offend ; 

These are the ingredients that make duty sweet, 

And homage proud, and faithfulness a passion; 

And long may they encircle our dear queen ! 

And make her dearer, till descending age 

Shall make her venerable. Then may she drop, 

Like a full ear that in it 's time is shed, 

And reverently gather'd to the store ! 

Lord B. A '11 drink that health mysel, Harry. (AIL) — The 
Queen ! 

Lady W. You may be surprised to find a woman wanting 
words. Yet such is my situation ; and nine out of every ten of my 
slandered sex, would be like me in the same circumstances. Our 
great want is words, — of sufficient power, " To quell the devil that 
lurks in lordly man ! " I know but one royal speech available 
to me as a model, and it is that of as great a queen, as I am a 
little one ; but it 's brevity suits me, — "I thank you my good 
people." 

Sir Thos. And now I believe the sport is over ? — 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 97 

Hairb. It is ; we abdicate, and seek the shade. 

Sir Thos. Well, — whether it is that playing the queen has a 
tendency to exalt the woman, or from whatever cause it is, I can- 
not help saying, that I never felt more proud of her little majesty 
than I do at this moment; or more desirous to see her resume 
her private and dearest character, of a woman and a wife. 
(Laughter.) Nay, Gentlemen, — 

I see her, as I saw her in her youth, — 

Lady W. Youth ! 

Sir Thos. With added depth of beauty, — 

Lady W. Oh ! 

Sir Thos. And her truth 

Now tried and known, (Applause.) 
But that reminds me : — There is one point on which my shoe 
still pinches ; and as we are all friends here, and every one knows 
what an indifferent fool of an husband I have hitherto made, — 

Crowd. Hear, hear, hear ! 

Sir Thos. Gentlemen, if that comes from any but a married 
man, it is an impertinence ! (Cheers again.) 

Sir Thos. I will take my own time for noticing that insolence. 

Wag. Sir Thomas, did you not really mean that you had been 
an indifferent husband ? 

Sir Thos. Certainly ! — But I meant it, as every gentleman 
means a confession of impropriety, as indicating an intention of 
amendment. 

Wag. Rather, as a sufficient atonement for the past, and ren- 
dering amendment in future superfluous ! 

Sir Thos. No, Sir ! — I fully purpose to do better, (Cheers,) 
and I wish to start as soon as possible, aud with a clear stage. 
Now, Lieutenant the Hon. Thomas Scamper, (I believe a most 
worthy scion of the house of Rakely,) called upon your Ladyship 
this morning, and mentioned an appointment which I do not 
think he could have meant to keep ; and which, consequently, to 
my mind, raises something like a mystery. (Lady W. retires.) 

Sir Thos. Hah! 

Wag. (Half aside.) It is clear her conscience, at least, is still 
entire. 

Sir Thos. A second time you have interfered where I think 

G 



98 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

you are unentitled. This is a family matter, Sir, and consequently 
no subject for you. 

Wag. So, while you seem very much disposed to think Lady 
W. in a mess, you seem equally disposed to shoot any one that 
should prove her so. 

Sir Thos. Can you prove her so ? 

Wag. On the contrary, I am sure she is as good a wife, as you 
are a bad husband. 

Lord B. An' that 's sayin' verra muckle ! 

Sir Thos. ( To Waggery.) We will talk about that hereafter, 
Sir ; in the meantime, that is my card. 

Pumpk. My Lord and Gentlemen of the jury, I shall reserve 
any observations / may have to make upon the events of this 
morning, until I have seen how the case of my client shall stand 
without them. 

Lord B. Oh ! we a' ken about that, sae ye need na waste your 
wind ; and family matters are, as Sir Thomas says, family mat- 
ters, and should na be meddled wi' by the uninitiated. 

Hairb. My life, upon the honour of the queen ! 

Lord B. Vera gude, Harry, an' vera gallant in you ; still, ae 
grain of explanation is worth ony quantity of assertion. An* 
what has this Mr Scaumper been about ? 

Hairb. Only filling up his time, I suppose, in making calls 
which nobody cares for, and which he himself only thinks of, be- 
cause his gloves are on, and he has no place in particular to go to. 

Lord B. Sic fules should be tied up ; or only allowed to gang 
where they can do nae harm. 

Kate. I think they 're very useful. 

Lord B. Is the lassie daft ? 

Kate. Yes, — Like dogs that are sheep-biters, they make the 
shepherds look sharp ! 

Sir Thos. I shall be very plain. This matter must be cleared 
up, or his scampership and I must measure shables. — And here 
in good time he comes. 

Lady W. (Entering as Lieut. Scamper.) 'Evening, Ladies 
and Gentlemen ! I, — I understand, I have been wanted ? I 
understand my name has been mentioned, rather disrespectfully, 
in connection with that of an honorable Lady ! Who was pleased 
to do me that favour ? 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 99 

Sir Thos. I have understood, Sir, that without reference to 
any Lady, you are no acquisition in any family, and consequently 
not in mine, — and I said so. 

Lady W. Well, you said a great deal too much. You cer- 
tainly know nothing of my qualities ; nor do I know any right 
you have to judge of them ; and it is equally certain you have no 
right to complain of my conduct in your family, I met Lady W. 
in society, was there any harm in that? 
Sir Thos. Go on. 

Lady W. I saw her home, — for that you have to thank me ; 
— I called to inquire after her health, — the rules of society 
compelled me ; and finding her an agreeable woman, and not 
particularly occupied, I am not aware that I did wrong in enjoy- 
ing her company while it was pleasant to her ; nor even in ac- 
knowledging that it was very pleasant to me. 

Sir Thos. Did you not speak of an appointment this morning, 

which you know had no existence, but in your own impertinence ? 

Lady W. I spoke of an appointment here ; and if I had been 

entirely precluded from keeping it, instead of being detained as I 

have been, till late, would that have been a crime ? 

Lord B. He has ye there, Tammie. I think the matter 's 
explained. 

Sir Thos. I do not choose that you shall have any acquaintance 
or communication. 

Lady W. That is another matter, — and refers entirely to the 
future ; am I to understand that you are satisfied as to the past ? 
Sir Thos. Suppose I am? 

Lady W. Then your denunciation as to the future is arbitrary 
and capricious ; and I shall only attend to it so far as I think 
proper. 

Sir Thos. You tell me that ? 

Lady W. I do. As you have admitted you have no fault to 
find as to the past, what right have you to insult either the Lady 
or me, by suspicion, or dislike, or in any other way ? 

Sir Thos. It is my pleasure, Sir ! and I am the Lady's hus- 
band. 

Lady W. And a very indifferent one hitherto. 
Sir Thos. That, Sir, is no affair of yours. 



100 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

Lady W. I can 't make so much noise as you do ; but 1 say 
it is my business, and that of every friend of Lady W. 

Sir Thos. You are no longer to pretend to that character, Sir ! 

Lady W. I shall certainly not consult you on that subject. 
While the Lady honours me with her esteem, that shall be enough 
for me ; for I suppose she is free and rational ? To be plain, — 
I can never cease to be the friend of that Lady ; and I think, 
under all the circumstances, she requires a friend. Nay, more, 
so long as you choose to leave her time unoccupied, she is very 
likely to have my company. 

Sir Thos. This is cool ! 

Lord B. The young rogue should be cognosced. He is com- 
mitting the Lady. 

Lady W. Take care, my Lord, or I may have to ask you some 
questions. 

LordB. Me? 

Lady B. Yes ! And I ask you decidedly, what does the man 
deserve who neglects his home, and dawdles away his time in 
other company than that of his wife ? Answer me. 

Lord B. I 'm no' obleeged ; it 's a question ye ha'e nae biziness 
wi' ; and it would be improper in me to answer ye any question, 
for I may ha'e to hang ye for murder, if ye provoke that gentle- 
man to lift his hand. 

Lady W. I '11 take my chance ; and also take leave to answer 
my own question : — such a man deserves, — a pain at least 
equal to that he inflicts. 

Lord B. Ye 're a vera forward little fallow ! 

Lady B. He 's a very proper little fellow, and I think better 
of him than I did. 

Sir Thos. This matter can go no farther here, and I beg the 
company's pardon for having carried it so far. 

Crowd. Not at all, not at all ; quite an amusement ; go on. 

Sir Thos. No ! I feel the ridicule of my situation sufficiently 
already. 

Lady W. Sir, this matter must be finished now. There are 
ties between Lady W. and me, which render her cause my own, 
and if you are a man ! {Drawing.) 

Sir Thos. What ! 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 101 

Lady W. You will not only instantly beg pardon of Lady W. 
and, me, but solemnly promise a very amended conduct ! 

Sir Thos. Who on earth has a right to speak to me in that 
manner ! 

Lady W. {Taking off her head-dress.) /have. 

Sir Thos. Lady W., by all that 's ridiculous ! ( They applaud 
her.) Could you not have spared me a little ? 

Lady W. I don 't think I could. 

Sir Thos. Whether you could or not, I forgive and thank 
you. My little Scapegrace ! ( Taking her hand.) I have indeed 
been insensible ; but I swear it shall be so no more. 

Lady TV. We shall see. I only tell you, that this joke cannot 
be repeated. 

Sir Thos. I '11 be good. 

Lady TV. You had need, or next time I find occasion to com- 
plain, I may tip you a chapter of the Ecclesiastics. 

Lady B. You are too simple. 

Lady TV. Must I take your Ladyship also in hand ? 

Lady B. You had better. I know I sent his Worship on his 
travels under circumstances of suspicion that have since appeared 
groundless, and so far the story seems against me ; but I am not 
exactly sure that it is. 

Lady TV. I '11 convince you of your injustice. I know the 
unfortunate girl who has caused you such uneasiness, and will 
shew you how much you have wronged your excellent husband, 
who is indeed a paragon of 

Lord B. Say nae mair about it. That 's a settled transaction. 

Lady TV. I 'J I see. \Exit Lady TV. 

Lord B. ( To Hairbrain.) Harry ! 

Hairb. My Lord ? 

Lord B. (Leading Hairbrain forward.) Kens the daft Randy 
ony thing about the limmer ? 

Hairb. It looks suspicious. But give me your consent as to 
Katie; unite our interests, and I '11 bring you off, cost what it may. 

Lord B. She '11 play the mischief, I doot ! 

Hairb. Leave every thing to me ; that is, if I am to have 
Katie and the ten thousand 

Lord B. Ten, Harry ! — I didna say ten. 

Hairb. Only ten atjirst. 



102 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

Lord B. It was seven at first, an' only ten a* thegither. 

Hairb. Well, eight be it then ; but I cannot risk every thing 
on my part, without any concession on yours. 

Lord B. What would ye do wi' the siller ? 

Hairb. Land, every sixpence ; I have a place in my eye. 

Lord B. See that it 's a bargain, an' we '11 no' fa' out about 
the soom doon. (Sum down.) 

Hairb. You shall judge in every thing; and now, my dear 
sir, speak ! 

Lord B. It '11 be vera awkward, sae sudden. 

Hairb. After four years' hard fagging? 

Phil. (Entering on tiptoe, and going to Lord B. and Hair- 
brain.) As I am an officer and a gentleman ! I believe thedivil's 
in the passage. 

Hairb. Who? Who? 

Phil. My Lordship knows. The old complaint, my Lord, 
will be back in no time ! 

Lord B. It 's the jaud, nae doubt. 

Phil. The same, the same, your honor's Reverence ! Shall I 
circumvint her ? 

Hairb. Yes ! bother her for a few minutes if you can, but 
don't hurt her, or she'll screech and spoil all. (Exit Phil.) 
( To Lord B.) Now, my Lord. 

Kate. {Coming forward.) Harry Hairbrain, if you have de- 
ceived me 

Hairb. Let me implore (She retires.) 

Lord B. Puir fallow ! ye ha'e yer tribulations too. ( Speaking 
aloud.) Eh, gentles ! we have had something like a Comedy 
the night, but my friend Harry reminds me, that a Comedy is 
never complete wantin' a marriage. Noo, Harry has been very 
usefu' the night in the way o' keepin' up the fun, and if he could 
find orry body as fulish as himsel, wadna mind continuin' to ack 
in character. My Lady, we ha'e gi'en ye ae surprise the night, 
what wad ye think of anither ? 

Lady B. If not more agreeable than the last, I must de- 
cline it. 

Lord B. Weel, my friend Harry here has, it seems for lang, 
had a vera gude opinion of our dochter Mary. 

Kate. (Starting forward.) Mary? 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 103 

Hairb. Mary, my Lord ! 

Lord B. Ay, Mary ; did ye no' say ten thoosan ? It 's Mary 
that has the ten ! 

Hairb. Katie, Katie, with any thing — with nothing ! 
Cursall. I dinna understand thae things, Mr Harry, but if its 
siller that 's wantit, an' no' a wife, say nae mair about it. I '11 
lend ye what ye need. 

Hairb. My dear fellow ! as long as I can walk the boards and 
wag my tongue, I shall find money more or less ; but a lady I 
can love, I may only find once in my life, and this is she. 
Cursall. Then to mak' ye her equal. 

Birkie. Mr James, ye maun come and dine wi' us, but there's 
nae siller needit. Harry has made something, an' I think 
deserves mair, so we '11 tak' him as he is, if it 's your pleasure. 
Harry, there 's my hand ! ( To the rest.) I made a mistak" it seems, 
it 's Katie that 's the favourite. Weel, even Katie wadna be the 
waur o' bein' married, though the auldest should ha'e gane first; 
and so, as my friend has agreed to be biddable, an' tak' advice, 
which a' young folks should, I have nae objection that he tak' her, 
and I hope your Ladyship will ha'e nane either. Hae, Harry, 
man ! (giving her hand) I hope she '11 be as gude a wife as she has 
been a dochter ; an', Harry, ye maun be a gude rascal yersel, 
for I think ye ha'e a bargain in Katie. (Hairbrain bows.) 
An' ye maun come an' see me aften, Harry, an' let Katie come. 

Hairb. We will, we will, my Lord, and never, never but to 
make you happy. 

Lord B. I 'm sure ye mean it ; and in that case I should say, 
bless ye ! but I 'm no muckle in the way o' savin' thae things. 
Gudewife, gie them your hand, and tak' my han', for we'll soon 
be lanely thegither again. 

Lady B. That has no terrors for me. Catherine, my girl ! 

Kate. My dear, dear mammy ! ( They embrace.) 

Lady B. I wish you happy ! I have not had such opportunity 
as I wished, for conversing with our dear son-in-law, but I cannot 
help thinking he might be a better man. 

Lady TV. (Entering disguised as a servant as before.) Now 
don't — don't be severe any farther upon Mr Hairbrain. 

Lord B. It 's that sneevlin' jaud again ! A wis' she were far 
eneuch f 



104 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

Phil. She would come in, your Reverence ! 
Lady TV. Many a one submits to be blamed, in order to screen 
others. 

Lady B. Now I believe the murder is out indeed. 
Lord B. Harry, what for dinna ye speak ? Ye ken I ha'e 
nae hand in't. 

Lady TV. Oh, my Lord Bir— Bir— Birkie ? (Sobbing.) 
Lord B. Ye limmer ! d' ye ken what ye 're doin' ? An' I 
believe ye want to mak' dispeace. 

Lady TV. Now don't wrong the innocent. 
Lord B. It 's my firm opinion. 

Lady TV. ( Throwing off her head-dress.) And upon such 
opinions doubtless, you give judgments that are irrevocable. 
Lord B. It's the cutty, Lady Doubloo, again ! 
Lady TV. How are ye all, good people? How are you my 
Lady, in particular ? Don't you think at last that you have 
erred on the one side, as far as you thought I had erred on the 
other ? 

Lady B. I never liked jokes. 
Lord B. That 's a truth ! 

Lady B. I now like them less than ever. Men are quite apt 
enough to be impudent, without any one taking the trouble to 
shew that women may be in the wrong. 

Lady TV. And women quite apt enough to be tyrannical, 
without being taught by their neighbours. 

Sir Thos. My dear ! if you knew how kindly Lady B. has 
spoken of you, and how firmly and properly to me, you would 
respect her as long as you live. 

Lady TV. Then I sincerely beg her pardon; but I did not 
know this. (To Lady B.) I beg you will forgive me. (She 
kisses her hand and they embrace.) Catherine, I congratulate 
you, or condole with you, as the case may be ; but I think you 
have got one that a woman of sense may manage, and so I con- 
gratulate yon. 

Sir Thos. Too much tyranny is bad on the one side or the 
other ; but the laws of propriety are well known, and it is unfor- 
tunate if one of a family does not stand up for them. 
Pumpk. Well said, Tommie ! 
Wag. Sir Thomas, let us be friends. (Offering his hand.) 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 105 

( To Hairbrain.) And you also, my old Stager, for I fear you are 
going to be good, and, consequently, that we must part. I con- 
gratulate you, but I confess you have distanced us too far, to 
„be considered to have played fair. 

Hairb. One must get sober some time, and perhaps the sooner 
the better. 

Pumpk. Certainly ; did you expect every one was to remain a 
wild beast though you did ? Any young lady take me ? Engaged 
as I am in the serious business of life — (A laugh.) Eh ? It is 
impossible that I can find time for the foolery of courting ; but 
you know who I am ; always able to scrape for you while I live, 
and can leave you the magnificent annuity of thirty pounds when 
I 'm dead. Who says ? — Once — twice ! 

Lady W. Will you allow me to recommend a young lady ? 
Pumpk. Certainly. 

Lady W. I must also have a little time to consult. 
Pumpk. All right ! But there is no time to be lost. I 'm a 
great bargain ; — five feet eight from top to toe, and the same 
from toe to top — allowed to be a very fine animal of my kind : 
— Going ! 

Lady W. One moment, Mr Peter. 

Pumpk. Certainly. Any gentleman give me a snuff in the 
meantime ? 

Hairb. ( To Lady B.) I forgive your Ladyship your bet. 
Lady B. You have contrived that we should have more to 
settle than that ; and for that at least you deserve credit. 

Kate. Mammy, mammy ! he offered to take me with nothing. — 
Lady B. You 're a happy woman ! 

Hairb. My Lady ! it was his Lordship's particular instruction, 
that I should attend to the main chance. 

Lord B. Yes, — but we never mean in thae cases that ye 
should begin wi' ane's seP. 

Lady W. Mr Pumpkin, let me recommend to you Miss Selina 
Sobersides. 

Pumpk. Sobersides ? — Sobersides ? However, do you bid, 
Ma'am ? 

Selina. (Modestly.) Yes. 

Pumpk. How much ? Give it a name ! — Ten, fifteen, or 
twenty thousand : nothing too much 'to be refused. 
Selina. I have only five. 



106 OLDEN TIMES, OR 

Pampk. Five ! That 's a Dutch auction. The standing jokes 
I have are worth that, to say nothing of the general corporation ; 
and I have known five or six feet of blockhead bring thrice the 
money. However, five thousand pounds are five thousand pounds ; 
and if it's a lady's all, why it should be valued accordingly. 
Going for five thousand pounds, then ! Ladies and gentlemen ! 
no man of sense should throw himself away, because if every one 
were to do so, all the prizes would be left to fools. But in this 
case a lady has shewn herself at once so generous and so confiding, 
that I only fear lest she should have a bad bargain. 

Wag. No hedging. — You stand to your offer, ma'am? — Gone ! 
Ma'am, I wish you joy of your purchase ! You 've got a great 
bargain, and I hope you'll make much of it. 

Lord B, Hah, hah ! I congratulate you, Mr Peter, I congra- 
tulate you! But, (To Hairbrain,) Harry, ye incarnate! ha'e 
ye dune me again ? 

Hairb. For the last time, my Lord ? 

Lady B. What was that, Sir? 

Hairb. His Lordship was only expressing surprise, — in which 
indeed we must all join, — that Lady W. should have succeeded 
in deceiving us a second time. 

Lord B. (To Hairbrain.) Ye ha'e won yer siller at last, 
Harry, an' I'm dune. (Aloud.) Weel, my Lady, without ex- 
actly justifying a' that 's been dune, to get an auld freend to meet 
his auld freends, it has been dune sae weel, and upon the whole 
endit sae weel, I think we should be satisfied. I hope ye are 
cured for ane, my Lady, an' for ae while. Tammie, I reckon ye 
ha'e gotten a lesson too ! (Aside.) A 've gotten a fright mysel ! 
(Aloud.) An' sae far as the young folks ha'e been furthered a 
step, I hope it '11 prove a gude ane. For me, I 'm verra glad, 
that in order to gie a lesson to my friends, I ha'e been able to 
ack sae weel, that nae body has suspected I was acting. 

Phil, You done me any how, complate ! For if that were 'nt 
real tribulation, I never seen it. 

Hairb. Hush, Phil ! You feed pigs no longer. 

Phil. Your sweet majesty ! 

Trockie. If there 's ony guid deen, I consider I ha'e been a 
verra great instriment. 

Lord B. An' a' your fauts are forgi'en for it, an' that 's nae 
trifle. — An' Ladies and Gentlemen, if we have na been mair 



THE RISING OF THE SESSION. 107 

ta'en up wi' family matters than we ought to ha'e been, to gi'e 
a' the amusement that we wished, — 

For a' my plagues, if I may use th' expression, 

I 'm weel contented sae to end the Session. 

(Fiddlers strike up.) 

Are thae the fiddlers ? Ye are in the right o 't ; 

Bring in the looms, an' lat us ha'e a night o 't. 



EPILOGUE. 

Five mortal acts ! If I have writ but nonsense — 
What future acts can clear my fame or conscience ? 
So as I may take up the theme, before all 
Less candid critics, here goes for the moral. 

Ye Birkies and ye Wildgeese ! on life's common, 
Should you e'er meet that fearful thing, a woman, — 
Yes, fearful ; though they seem as things from Heaven, 
Of which the pictures are so often given : — 
With looks of light, and steps as light as air, 
And eyes yet brighter than their brows are fair, 
And vestures streaming, while their face is set 
In roses, and in ringlets fair or jet, 
They onward swim, in seeming innocent, 
Yet if a volley from their eyes is sent, 
You gasp, as if a cannon-ball went by, 
And but throw after them a powerless sigh I — 
Then, every night, 'tis dreaming of proposals, 
And charming meetings, follow'd by espousals ; 
A total change of habits and of life, — 
Oh ! nothing now, like order and a wife ! — 
Should you e'er feel so moved, and in due time 
Succeed in conquering, by prose or rhyme, 
Renounce all other vagaries, such as 
With wicked chirping Bachelors have place ; 
Have but one scene of happiness and glory, 
(And this applies to either Whig or Tory,) 
Your home ! or such society as home 
Is sure to give ; for should you chance to roam 
Alone, uncared for, wicked Bachelors, 
Without the fear of drink, or decent hours, 
Will lead you on, with story after story, 
And setting every thing that's good before ye, 
Till, when you wake at last, you find, alas ! 
You do n't know clearly what has come to pass ; 



J 08 EPILOGUE. 

Whether you found your way to home, as soon 
As mortal could, or tumbled from the moon ; 
While tales are told that make you feel quite foolish, 
And all about are cold, and stiff, and mulish. 

And you, ye Birkies of the softer sex, 
(For once a century such things will vex,) 
If Hubby for a little hour forgets 
The charming mean your sweet example sets. 
Bear not so hard as quite to booby him, 
And make a crime of every little whim ; 
Or driving him to other aid, perchance 
Designing rogues may lead you both a dance ; 
Make you unhappy, for a trivial matter, 
And rid you both, of money or a daughter ! 

I think 1 have made this completely out, 
A moral worth your money, without doubt. — 

Others are made to " fret their little hour," 
But need I farther seek to shew my power ? 
Lawyers will know the value of my strictures, 
And beg to sit, or not sit, for their pictures, 

Meantime it vexes me, and others too, 
The larger courts the less there is to do; 
And stupid statesmen have so fleeced the city, 
We can 't afford to laugh nor to be witty ; 
The world in general is become so knowing, 
Humour is gone, and business is fast going. 

Talent and patience conquer all mishaps, — 
The feast is gone, let 's revel on the scraps ; 
Or, turning tradesmen in our own defence, 
Charge by the hour, and pocket the expense ! 
For me, I know my cue ; if trade is short, 
I write again, — and mercy on the Court ! 
But abler men should other schemes devise, — 
Bring back our Boards of Customs and Excise; 
Bring in cheap coals, should it be from the moon, 
Deepen the Leith, and put the Treddles on ; 
And like Financiers masters of our trade, 
Insist to spend the money where 'tis made ! 
Then we may thrive ; till then "the splendid city," 
Is but a splendid tomb, — the more 's the pity ; 
And yet our Councillors exalt their horn, 
By recommending even buying corn ! 
Oh pravum Genus ! procul te Regina ! 
Si non dilectant clades et ruina. 
But this is — what ? an Epilogue, — 'od so ! 
Well ! we have got your cash, and you may go. 



POLITICAL WORKS 



PUBLISHED BY 



D. BAIN. 



I. 

IRELAND, 

ITS WANTS AND CAPABILITIES; 

OR, THE POLICY AND NECESSITY OF SOME CHANGES IN IREL A ND, 
AND THOSE CHANGES SUGGESTED. 

Smith, Elder, & Co. Cornhill, London ; Curry & Co. Dublin ; 
and J. Menzies, 61, Prince's Street, Edinburgh. 1836. Price 2s. 6d. 

Numerous, and, in some cases, very extended notices, of this little volume, 
appeared in various journals in Scotland, England, and Ireland, several of 
which I should now be happy to recall and to quote. They were all com- 
mendatory ; some of the Irish journals in particular extracting- whole chapters. 
The papers were originally drawn up as a report to Government. They do 
not contain a line that was not intended to be useful, and they have been 
said by very competent authorities to have fulfilled this intention. 

II. 

SUBSTANCE OF TWO LETTERS TO A NOBLE 
LORD ON THE SITUATION OF IRELAND. 

1837. Pp.50. Is. 

A resumption and enlargement of some of the points in the preceding, and 
addressed originally to the proper Minister. But " Laissez nous /aire," 
applies equally to Ministers and merchants; and also to cows in clover. 



WORKS PUBLISHED BY D. BAIN. 



III. 



THE IMPORTANCE OF AGRICULTURE TO A 

STATE, THE NECESSITY FOR PROTECTING IT IN GREAT 
BRITAIN, AND THE PRINCIPLES OF THAT PROTECTION 
EXPLAINED. 

1834. Pp. 56. Price Is. 6d. 

This pamphlet also was extensively reviewed ; and though anxiously com- 
bated by one party, has, so far as I know, kept its ground, and deserved to 
do so. 

It opposed the views of the friends of Agriculture in only one point, viz. 
as to the existing Corn- Law, and it is about to be altered. 

IV. 

VERSES ON REFORM. 

1831. Price Is. 
Said to be " A state paper in verse." 



A SKETCH IN THE HOUSE — 1837. 

Never published. An exposure of the workings of Romanism in Parliament. 
Verse, with Notes. Pp. 42. Price Is. 



VI. 

A PLAIN APPEAL TO THE CHURCH IN 

SCOTLAND, MEANING THEREBY THE ENTIRE PEOPLE 
OF SCOTLAND SO FAR AS CHRISTIAN, AS TO THE 
CHARACTER AND STATION OF MINISTERS IN THE 
CHURCH. By Presbuterion. 

Fraser & Crawford, &c. Edinburgh. Price 6d. 

No tradesman having an interest in these books, they have never been 
properly advertised ; but it is believed the principles they advocate are uni- 
formly correct, and they have certainly been written with no other view, 
than fearlessly and anxiously to state the truth. 



PROPOSED TO BE PUBLISHED. 



ODE TO THE QUEEN, 

SEU 

APOPHTHEGMATA QUiEDAM REGALIA, 

AD 

VICTORIAM REGINAM 
REGNUM INEUNTEM, 

LATA., 

AMICO IMPERATRICIS ET IMPERII. 

These verses are the result of the thoughts of many years, and upon very 
important subjects. They would convey to Her Majesty, or rather to 
such as from curiosity might be induced to study them in place of Her 
Majesty, information and opinions not likely to be obtruded by any Minis- 
ter or Ministers. 

In case it should go no farther, I shall do all the good that my space will 
allow. 

Of Agriculture.— " Protect our agriculture, nurse of states, 
And parent of all other industry." 

Of Colonies. — According to the doctrines of the new school, 

— " Colonies 

Are but a curse, at least of doubtful worth." 

According to these verses — 

" They are the fountains of our enterprise, 
The very buttresses on which this Empire lies." 

tF tF ^ vF v& 3p 

" Shorn of these rays, what were this State ? — a wart ! 

A speck even in the ocean that it rules; 
Let those who disregard the Statesman's art, 

But look on Venice, it should school their schools; 

Its dying looks alone, should shew them they are fools." 



i 



1 PROSPECTUS OF AN ODE TO THE QUEEN. 

Of certain Statesmen. — 

Look on the men whose wisdom and whose worth, 

Court your acceptance in the hour of need ; 
" The Hero of a Hundred Fights," whose birth 

Will yet be felt, as it had been decreed, 
To rescue ages from the downward speed 

That tyranny had given them. When he parts, 
We all shall wonder that, the nations freed 

By his great arm, his really matchless parts 

Had not been used, till Death had ta'en him from our hearts. 
##***■## 

But should you, by fatality,. retain 
Men feeble or incompetent in aught; 

And party sometimes even will men sustain 
That nothing know, and nothing can be taught, 
The Royal name will to contempt be brought, — 

tF vF vF ttf vF "?£ TV 

And Ministers regarded as a knot 

Of , seeking but for power and pelf, 

The state at once will serve and vindicate itself. 

And beggared in finances when we should 
Be hoarding treasures for less peaceful times, 

And talent spurned, not of a certain brood, 
And acts of courage treated even as crimes !* 

Can these be statesmen ? or but dangerous mimes ? 
The braggart union even our blood has sought, 

Treating our dandy-drivellings as old rhymes, 
Or vapourings of a fool whose bolt is shot : — 
Cromwell had ta'en the rascals by the throat, 
And taught them honour, if they had it not. 

The verses would exceed twelve hundred lines, or from seventy to eighty 
pages, and would fall to be accompanied by notes exceeding themselves in 
extent; and as verses are not at present sought for by the public, and 
Booksellers only patronise what the public does, (vide Memoirs of Jack 
Shephard, &c.) this book, if published at all, must be published on the 
encouragement of friends of a very different species of Literature; and from 
them the author would be glad to receive encouragement. 

A few copies in Quarto, at L.l, Is. would enable to give an Edition at 
5s. or under. 



31, Gayfield Square, 
Feb, 1841. 



* At the MAURiTtus, &c. 



_ 



. 



■■n 



9rv$ 






